Crossfire
by ThatGirlArivael
Summary: AU. When they'd taken the job, it had seemed simple enough: sneak, steal, deliver. Killua hadn't expected for things to escalate so quickly, much less for them to get so personal. He and Gon, they were criminals—they weren't fit for playing heroes. And falling in love? That had never been a part of the equation. After all, in their world caring for someone too much could be deadly.
1. Renegades

_You say you don't need love, I say you ain't so tough. Come on and let me in._

 _Brother in arms, together we spill our blood on foreign streets._

 _Worlds apart, and in too deep. My brother in arms, I wouldn't change a thing._

* * *

It was done, and it was time to go.

Gon could hear the pounding of frantic footsteps approaching the room. He needed to move, _now_. He smashed through a nearby window — elbow first — and climbed out onto the fire escape. With cat-like agility, he zig-zagged all the way down the stairs before making the twenty-foot drop to the ground below. He landed with a roll, allowing the impact to ripple through his body. By that time, the guards finally reached the office room he had been in. They were too late.

 _Shit._

Tonight had not gone as planned.

Gon was pretty used to his presence going completely undetected. He had always been good at sneaking around and yet, something had been off. There had been more guards than he had been expecting, more cameras. The security had definitely been amped up. He couldn't remember a single instance of negligence on his part, but he'd still been spotted somehow.

 _Oh well._

What's done was done, and all he could do now was run.

Heavy boots slamming against the pavement announced the arrival of his pursuers. He tried to tell them apart—two... maybe three? He picked up speed as he maneuvered through the shadows. He ran for several blocks before turning sharply around a corner and diving into a dark alley.

He surveyed his surroundings — a dumpster, a scared looking cat, and a few trashcans. A ripped abandoned couch. A fire escape with a ladder that, for reasons unknown, dangled about a dozen feet above the ground.

 _Yes, this'll work._

Gon took a running head start and propelled himself up from the overflowing dumpster. He jumped back and forth up the narrow walls until he was able to grasp the ladder from the fire escape. He pulled himself up with ease, then settled himself on the bottom rung. As he bit his lip in concentration, he began his silent wait.

"What the hell do you mean, 'he disappeared'? He can't have gone that fucking far, we just saw him running in this direction a few seconds ago!" came a gruff and authoritative voice from beyond the alley. "He didn't just vanish into thin air. You, search that alley. I'll check over here."

They were coming for him. Gon readied himself, waiting for the tell-tale shadows of his pursuers.

Soon enough, a tall man poked his head into the alley, gun at the ready.

"You can't hide forever, you little punk!" the man taunted as he stepped into the alley, coming to a stop just underneath Gon. Cake.

"I don't intend to," Gon smirked and let himself fall elbow-first into the man, knocking him out before he could even look up.

He'd always preferred disabling his victims to killing them — killing just wasn't his thing. Killua always yelled at him for it, insisting that killing them was the only way to go. Of course, for his partner — a former assassin— it wasn't much of a problem. Gon, however, couldn't deal with the aftermath as easily.

He dragged the unconscious man behind the ripped couch, hiding him from view. Then he stalked towards the end of the alley. There was still another guard somewhere out there, most likely searching down another alleyway.

The gears in his head turned in thought. Shortly after, his amber eyes lit up in idea. He picked up a piece of garbage — a broken-off ladder step— and threw it out into the main street. The chunk of metal clanged loudly against a mailbox.

Gon ducked into the shadows as the other man came running out of a side street. The man whipped his head around looking for the source of the noise but found nothing. Frowning, he continued down the street, passing the alley — and Gon — without a second glance.

 _C'mon, really? I'm right here!_

This was almost too easy.

Within seconds Gon had the man's arms twisted behind his back, his own hand over the stranger's mouth to silence him.

"Keep it quiet and I won't break both your arms," he said, his voice smooth but laced with threats. The man nodded, wide-eyed, and Gon couldn't hold back his grin. "Good boy. Now, drop the gun before I force you to."

The weapon hit the floor.

Gon then pressed his thumb sharply behind the man's earlobe, knocking him out cold in seconds. Looking satisfied, he picked up the gun and slid it into one of his pockets. He dragged the limp body over to the torn couch and set it down next to the first one. Done.

He dusted off his hands and pulled out his cellphone. A quick peek at the screen revealed no missed calls or messages. He frowned.

 _Where are you?_

He had to make it to their rendezvous point.

With that thought, Gon continued down the main street. He tried to focus on anything unusual rather than on the worry that was creeping into his mind. He did his best to blend into the shadows, ears and eyes open for anything unusual, when—

 _'Click'_

His entire body stiffened at the all-too-familiar sound. He slowly turned around to face yet another man clad in a crisp black suit, pointing a gun directly at his chest.

 _Shit, there was a third._

Gon raised his hands to show he wasn't holding a weapon of his own — not exactly his favorite position to be in.

"Give it back, kid. If you do, I'll only hurt you a little," the man said.

The smirk that followed implied that, no matter what Gon did, the outcome would be the same. His captor was out for blood.

"No," Gon replied evenly, his face calm and expressionless. Time — he needed time.

The man scowled and leveled his gun at Gon's head. "Fine then, have it your way." He moved to pull the trigger.

The crack of a gunshot split the air. An agonized scream reverberated through the empty street.

Gon's eyes widened. A wicked knife had flown into the man's hand, piercing through it and throwing off his aim. The bullet buried itself in the wall behind Gon, a mere four inches away from his head. His face twisted in outrage, the man turned to face the direction the knife came from.

A flash of silver served as the only warning before the man's lifeless body collapsed in a heap. Blood seeped from a deep chest wound and tinted the pavement a deep crimson.

 _Killua..._

Gon's eyes shifted from the corpse up to the tense figure of his partner. Killua was working on wiping his knives clean, an impassive look on his face as his silver hair fell into his eyes. Gon knew that look well—for his safety, Killua never hesitated to kill.

Without a word, Killua rolled his stiff shoulders and turned to Gon. The remnants of dark, slit eyes melted away to reveal a familiar azure color. A small smirk formed on his lips. "Missed me?"

Now that he had recovered from the initial shock, Gon scowled. Well, he meant to, but the expression looked more like a pout when directed at Killua.

"Killuaaaaa, where the hell have you been?"

What he really meant was _'I'm glad you're alright, and I'm even more glad you're here.'_

"Tch. Is that any way to talk to the guy who just saved your ass?" Killua huffed, though his expression softened considerably now that Gon wasn't about to get his brains blown out. "Seriously, though... that was close. I'm glad I got here when I did."

"To be honest, I was starting to get a bit worried," Gon admitted. The two headed towards Killua's motorcycle, Narukami, which was parked about two blocks away. "Something was off tonight..."

"You noticed it too, huh? At first, I thought it was just me." Killua frowned, thinking back at his own assignment.

He would never admit it, but his own task had taken him a bit longer than he had originally expected. Tighter security, different guard shifts. Yet it hadn't mattered much to him in the end — a clean escape was the Zoldyck trademark.

"These must really be important," Killua muttered as he produced a silver SD card from his pocket. Gon nodded, fetching his own silver card and tossing it to Killua, who caught it with ease.

"Let's see what Cass has to say about it," Gon suggested. He grabbed his helmet and moved to sit on the front end of the bike.

"Hey, hey! What do you think you're doing?" Killua narrowed his eyes. He slipped the cards into one of his many zippered jacket pockets and wrapped an arm around Gon's waist.

"C'mon, let me drive!" Gon shot Killua a petulant look as he was hauled off the front end of the bike unceremoniously.

"No way in hell! Naru is MY baby." Killua stuck his tongue out before sliding on the helmet and climbing onto the front of the bike. HIS bike.

"You're so mean, Killuaaaa," Gon griped as he jumped on the back.

This was so typical of them. The entire world could be falling around them and they'd _still_ be acting like kids around each other. It only took a few seconds for Gon's pout to be replaced by a lazy smile. A smile reserved only for Killua.

"You ready?"

He could barely hear Killua's voice over the revving of the bike. He pressed himself against the warmth of Killua's back, his arms sliding around Killua's waist. He broke out into a grin he knew the other couldn't see.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand!"

Killua shook his head, though he was grinning as well. "Gawd, you're such a nerd!"

The bike roared to life, and soon the pair disappeared into the night.

* * *

 _Run away with me, lost souls in reverie._ _Running wild and running free, two kids, you and me._

 _And I say, hey, hey hey hey, we're living like we're renegades._

* * *

Brothers in Arms - Young Guns

Renegades - X Ambassadors


	2. Demons

_Something has been taken from deep inside of me, a secret I've kept locked away, no one can ever see._

 _Wounds so deep they never show, they never go away. Like moving pictures in my head, for years and years they've played._

* * *

Their elevator came to a stop on the top floor and pinged open to let them off. The hallway was well-lit, lined with shiny brass sconces and abstract paintings in shades of green and blue. When they reached their door, Gon's hands automatically went to his pockets.

"Oh crap, keys..."

"I've got 'em." Killua waved him off.

Gon watched as his partner produced a card key and swiped it with cool flair. The door unlocked with a beep and, without further preamble, Killua waved him inside.

As thieves-for-hire, the two of them usually traveled to wherever their clients required. Their current job involved nabbing some files from a Yorknew businessman, Lech Sauveterre. The man was famous for placing exorbitant bets on matches at Heaven's Arena — Sebokeng's world-renown fight club. So naturally, they were currently sharing the lavish penthouse atop the city's most expensive hotel.

Gon had grown up in a house smaller than the expansive living room that stretched out before them. Beyond the leather furniture and plush carpet extended a full-wall balcony with glass doors. He caught a glimpse of the magnificent view, imposing skyscrapers and city lights that glittered like diamonds. Funny, as an island boy raised in the backwoods he never thought he'd get used to over-the-top luxury. And yet, things like this had been a constant in his life ever since he had partnered with Killua.

Killua Zoldyck spared no expense on his lifestyle, and it wasn't much of a surprise. From what he knew of the Zoldyck assassins, a family that stood at the pinnacle of underworld aristocracy, he guessed money had never been an issue for his partner.

"Home sweet home," Killua sighed as he tossed his motorcycle keys onto a nearby table. He shrugged off his leather jacket. He'd managed to keep pristine and bloodless tonight, which was an unusual but welcome victory on his part — normally he lost one or two a week.

Gon hadn't been so lucky. The cuts on his right cheek stung bitterly and so did the gashes across his chest. A deep cut extended from the back of his right hand to just below the elbow; likely a consequence of him bursting through the glass. He'd barely felt anything at the time, his adrenaline rush dulling the pain. But now that the high was coasting down, his wounds screamed for attention. With a groan, he peeled off his ripped, blood-stained shirt and tossed it into a trash bag to burn later.

"You should probably get cleaned up," Killua said.

Gon's pained cries had drawn his partner's attention. Killua's eyes were impossibly blue and narrowed at the sight of the wounds marring Gon's skin. It had been a while since the last time either of them had gotten injured to this extent. It raised questions.

"I know you're not _that_ careless, so what the hell happened?"

"Glass window," Gon mumbled. "I may or may not have taken a twenty-foot drop."

He laughed as Killua shook his head, mumbling something about Gon being a 'careless idiot' under his breath. The words held no bite, however.

"The first-aid kit that Leorio gave us is in a bag in my room. I had him pack extra supplies. It's like I _knew_ you'd end up doing something stupid." Killua smirked, his eyes sparkling in mirth.

"Whatever, _SOMEONE_ 's gotta keep things exciting around here," Gon huffed. His lips pursed in a petulant pout that drew a snort from Killua.

"Whatever. Just go shower before I shove you in there and scrub you down myself."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Gon's impish grin earned him an eye roll.

A pink blush lit up Killua's mock-offended face as he shoved Gon into the nearest bathroom. "Ngh. Just... go!"

Gon was opening his mouth to make another roguish comment when a towel hit him square in the face.

"KIIIIILLUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAA!" he whined, ripping the towel from his face with exaggerated indignation. He reached for the nearest item — a roll of toilet paper — and chucked it at Killua with all his might.

The ex-assassin dodged the projectile with cat-like grace and grabbed another towel to retaliate.

"You're too slow, Freecss! Get on my level!"

And with that, an all-out war ensued.

—

About an hour later, Killua let himself fall back onto the enormous leather couch with a sigh. His hair, still damp from the shower, darkened the shoulders of his navy blue henley. He rummaged through his bag, finally pulling out a 13" laptop and the two data cards from earlier. He set the laptop down on the coffee table and booted it up, then picked up one of the silver cards while he waited. He examined it closely; standard memory card, nothing special about it on the outside.

Once he was logged on, he inserted the card into one of the SD slots and tried accessing the data. As expected, the files were encrypted. While he considered himself tech-savvy, he knew it would take him ages to crack something like this. With an approaching deadline, they definitely didn't have that kind of time. Thankfully, though, they had Cass.

He scrolled through his contacts list to the familiar username and double-clicked it to pull up a video chat. A few seconds later, he was greeted by a smiling face and an even more cheerful voice.

"Hey, Kil! How did it go?" Cass asked. The picture was a little distorted, but Killua could still see the spark in her green eyes. Leorio and Kurapika stood behind her, waving in the background.

Cass was their team's resident hacker and all-around electronics specialist. The calm and collected Kurapika was Killua's wheelsman and also a tech expert; the gadgets he created were just as impressive as the cars he managed to get his hands on. Finally, there was Leorio. Leorio was the team's self-proclaimed "explosives expert", weapons dealer, and doctor-in-training. The man was a walking, talking oxymoron, but Killua didn't have much room for complaints. While annoyingly cocky sometimes, Leorio was a vital (and amusing) part of their team.

"We got what we needed." Killua flashed the card that wasn't currently attached to his computer. "I tried pulling up the data, but of course it's encrypted. Do you want me to send it now?"

"Yeah, whenever you're ready."

Killua uploaded the files, clicked the _SEND_ button, and then leaned back on the couch. His eyes were drawn to the image behind Cass and the others. The living room table was littered with empty liquor bottles, a few empty pizza boxes and soda cans, and what seemed to be an entire collection of magazines. He narrowed his eyes.

"Well, Leorio, I see you're doing an excellent job of trashing my house," he said unimpressed.

Cass let out an involuntary squeak as Leorio shoved her off her chair and stared right into the camera.

"Hey now! Why you gotta blame me?" Leorio fumed, doing his best to look as innocently appalled as possible. Killua raised an eyebrow.

"Well, who else?"

"Why you—" Leorio was cut off by a chuckling Kurapika pushing him off-screen.

"Don't worry, Killua. Leorio will have this place spotless by the time you get back," said Kurapika. An amused smile spread across the blonde's lips as Leorio complained in the background; something about Killua being an annoying spoiled brat and Kurapika being a traitor.

"I'll hold you to that."

"Anyway," Kurapika continued, ignoring Leorio's pouting. "How's Sebokeng?"

"We've been busy, so there hasn't been much time left for sightseeing," Killua sighed. "Everything seems to be just as I remember it, though. Heaven's Arena and all." His gaze dropped unconsciously.

Leorio jumped back on the screen, an elated expression on his face. "I love Heaven's Arena! I made a small fortune on bets the last time I was there. You guys should check it out!"

"Hey, Killua's not allowed to gamble!" Gon teased as he popped up behind Killua. He wore dark green sweatpants and a black sleeveless shirt that revealed most of the tribal pauldron tattoo on his left arm. His hair drooped over his shoulders, rendering his appearance endearingly — and deceivingly — innocent.

"HI GON!" came the chorus from the screen as all three of their friends waved enthusiastically at him. Gon waved back with a laugh as Killua mumbled under his breath that he wasn't THAT bad when it came to gambling. It's not like he was addicted, or anything.

"Gon, you're hurt." Kurapika's brow furrowed as he noticed the cut extending down Gon's arm.

"Don't worry, it's nothing. Did I miss anything?" Gon said dismissively as he plopped himself down on the couch next to Killua.

Cass shook her head. "Not much, really. I ran a preliminary analysis on the data you guys got... Like you suspected, Kil, the encryption is very complex. I'll do my best to crack it as soon as possible, but it might take me a while."

Killua nodded. "I figured as much."

It made sense. Obtaining the cards had been almost _too_ easy.

"Also—" Cass reeled his attention back in. "There was an encrypted note attached to the files. It was much simpler code, so I was able to crack it easily. My guess is that it was meant to be accessed by someone not as tech-savvy. It's addressed to a Mr. Zhakarov. Ring any bells?"

 _Zhakarov?_

"He's a hit man," Killua said, sitting up straight. "What does the note say?"

"Well..." Cass clicked her tongue. "According to the note, he's supposed to meet up with Sauveterre tonight around 2300 hours at a place called _Indigo_."

She shot Gon and Killua a meaningful look, but whatever she was implying was lost on the two of them, who stared back at her blankly. Leorio burst out laughing in hysterics.

"Leorio, what's so funny?" Gon blinked, confusion etched across his face.

"His brain's just messed up," Killua offered flippantly.

"Well, that's interesting. I had no idea Indigo had gone international." Kurapika chuckled, apparently also in on this big secret.

Killua grit his teeth in annoyance. "Just fucking spit it out already."

"Oh man! You two are gonna have TONS OF FUN tailing 'em!" Leorio finally stopped laughing. His lips were upturned in a triumphant smirk as if he had one-upped Killua for the first time in his life. "Indigo is a gay bar. A _very popular, very high-end_ gay bar. Have you been living under a rock?"

This earned him a groan from Killua. "Fuck... You have GOT to be kidding me."

"Oh, you better believe it, pretty boy! Damn, I can't believe I'm gonna miss this!" Cass butted in, her eyes twinkling in excitement.

"Ah Cass," Kurapika coughed conspicuously. "Your inner fangirl is showing."

"Ugh. I can't believe this... of all the places!" Killua moaned.

He remembered, with annoyance, the last time he and Gon had to 'blend in' at a gay bar. They'd been tailing a Yorbian millionaire, and all sorts of men had been hitting on them all night. Gon, charming and charismatic as he was, had handled the situation well. His good looks and amiability had earned him copious amounts of alcohol and information throughout the night. Killua, on the other hand, had ended up being stalked by creepy, obsessive dudes who didn't understand the meaning of the words 'fuck off or die'. God, it was an annoyance to be pretty sometimes.

"Well, we'd better leave you guys now. I'm sure you need your beauty sleep so you can look _totally fab_ tonight." Leorio snickered.

"Piss off." Killua glared daggers at him. He was extremely tempted to wipe the big grin plastered on Leorio's face.

"Make sure you take lots and lots of pictures!" Cass burst into giggles just before Killua killed the chat.

"I hate everything," Killua groaned finally as he ran his hands down his face.

"Aww c'mon, Killua. It won't be that bad." Gon playfully nudged his shoulder, looking much more amused than Killua would have liked him to be.

"Of course it will be! What a pain in the ass!" Killua sighed before shooting his partner a side glance. His tone was much softer now. "How are you feeling?"

"Honestly, not too bad. The worst of it all is my arm. I managed to clean it off pretty well, but I had too much trouble trying to wrap it. It's my right—" Gon started, looking bashful as he held up a roll of bandages. Killua took the roll from him.

"Here, let me see."

Killua grasped Gon's arm and pulled him closer to take a better look. His eyes traced the cut that marred his partner's tanned skin from the back of the hand all the way to the elbow. It was deep and wicked-looking. Killua frowned.

"That must hurt. Just let me..."

—

Gon sat perfectly still, watching as Killua wrapped the bandage around his arm. Killua's movements were precise but also careful, like he was worried about hurting him. The thought was enough to spread a comfortable warmth over Gon's chest.

"That should do it," Killua said finally.

He'd finished tying the bandage low enough so that it didn't constrain Gon's arm movement. He looked up at Gon's face and frowned.

"What is it?"

"Those scratches..."

Killua brought a gentle hand to Gon's cheek, eyes locked on the scratches Gon had almost forgotten. He didn't know why, but he was hyper-aware of Killua's fingers barely brushing against his skin.

"Did you put anything on these?"

"Ah, no. I just cleaned them," Gon said all too quickly. His face felt warm from his neck all the way to the tip of his ears.

Killua shook his head. "Idiot, they'll scar."

Before Gon could stop him, Killua had already gotten up and disappeared into his bedroom. He came back a minute later with a tube of antibiotic ointment, some cotton swabs, and small bandages.

"Honestly, Gon. What would you do without me?" Killua hummed as he ripped open a packet of cotton swabs.

Gon's mind wandered.

 _What would I do without you? Well..._

Choosing not to answer, Gon averted his eyes as Killua leaned closer. His heart thudded almost painfully in his chest.

Killua dabbed ointment onto the cuts and then covered them with the bandages. When he was done, he leaned back to admire his handiwork. "That's better."

Killua got up and collected all the first-aid supplies. He was about to head bad to his room when Gon found himself reaching for him. Almost reflexively, his hand wrapped around Killua's wrist, holding him in place. Killua looked back at him, eyebrow raised as the two of them locked eyes.

"Gon...?"

Honestly, Gon didn't know what he wanted to say. He didn't even know why he'd grabbed Killua in the first place. In an attempt to hide his own confusion, he said the first thing that came to mind.

"Killua, thank you—" Gon felt himself slip into an honest smile. "—for taking care of me. Not just now, but always. To answer your question from earlier, I don't know what I'd do without you."

He let go of Killua's wrist. He'd meant every word.

"I-idiot, don't say such embarrassing things!" Killua blushed a lovely pink as he hurried away.

Gon watched him leave with an easy smile on his face before leaning back down on the couch. His eyes drifted to the enormous glass doors of the balcony and the starry sky that he could see beyond.

 _I'm really glad I met you, Killua, but I'm more glad that you care._

—

 _He was coming. He was right on their tail. They had to keep running._

 _It was cold... so cold. If only the wind would stop whipping their bodies so mercilessly._

 _His sister. He had to protect his sister at all costs. She was the only one_ _—_

 _She was the only one he had._

—

 _"No, please! Spare her, I beg you!" He pleaded_

 _He simply got a scowl in return. "Say goodbye."_

 _The deafening sound of a gunshot at point-blank range rang through the air._

 _An excruciating pain drilled through him as the bullet tore his own body._

—

Killua shot up in bed with a scream.

His chest heaved as he coughed and sputtered, completely out of breath. Feeling like a trapped animal, he darted his eyes across the room long enough to place himself.

He was back in the hotel room. In his room. In his bed. His shoulders slacked in sudden realization.

He brought clammy, trembling hands up to his face and into his hair, only to realize that he was drenched in sweat. He couldn't—

His shoulders shook as tears fell onto his crumpled sheets. The voice that came was unlike his own, nothing more than a strangled sob.

 _"Alluka..."_

* * *

 _I'm the one with the ghosts in my bed, but they only come alive at night._

 _Stuck in my sheets an accustomed coffin, I swear that I'll be fine._

 _I'll be fine in the daylight._

* * *

 _Easier to Run - Linkin Park_

Ghosts - Pvris


	3. Memories

_Oh, I know, I can feel the shifting in my bones, enclosed are senses so unknown._

 _I've been changing, falling, fading. There's demons at the door patiently waiting._

* * *

With a tired groan, Gon stretched out as far as he could across his much-too-large bed. After a few minutes of inactivity, he rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand, his eyes drifting to the sweeping morning view of the city skyline. The sun rose over the horizon, painting the sky in splashes of orange and pink.

He'd barely gotten any sleep that night. He'd been too busy tossing and turning for the past several hours, his mind wandering restlessly. Though he'd never had problems with insomnia in his younger years, it was now becoming the norm. Sometimes his brain worked on overdrive, playing out upcoming missions in his head, or developing strategies to efficiently complete their jobs. Sometimes he would get homesick for aunt Mito's cooking and any upcoming cultural festivals back home. But tonight, he thought of Killua.

For some reason, memories of their first meeting had come rushing back for the first time in a long time. He still remembered everything clearly — he had been around fourteen years old back then.

He had traveled to the Republic of Rokario for a smuggling job, one where the client had been offering a generous amount of money to anyone ballsy enough to transport contraband from a warehouse in the capital to the neighboring state of NGL The reward sum had been so exorbitant that he hadn't thought twice about spending all his remaining money on a plane ticket to Rokario He'd been confident that once he was done he'd have enough cash to return home and feed himself and aunt Mito for _at least_ two months or so.

But once he had flown practically across the world and reached the rendezvous point to collect the goods, shit hit the fan. His client was apprehended by hunters and the job ended in a total bust. He'd been lucky enough to escape the warehouse undetected, but he'd also found himself stranded — alone and penniless, stuck in a dusty foreign city with no way to get back home.

He'd spent the following weeks picking pockets and doing odd jobs just to get by. A fraction of the money went to bread and water while the rest went straight to his Whale Island pot. Hunger had torn at his body, and frustration had clouded his mind. He'd been growing desperate, praying for a miracle to any deity that would listen; one of them who eventually provided an answer in the most unlikely of forms.

/

 _He was prowling the dark and empty streets of the capital, searching for his next unlucky victim, when he saw him._

 _The boy was definitely not from Rokario He looked to be around Gon's age, maybe a bit younger. Though he wore a pullover with the hood up, his hands shoved in his pockets, Gon didn't miss the marble-white skin and striking silver hair. The clothes he wore were simple but looked very high-quality; that along with the dignified air around him made Gon think that he was most likely of higher class. Probably rich._

 _This could be the break he had been waiting for._

 _He pulled his worn cloak over his head and started walking just a fraction faster. The stranger wasn't too far away._

 _He felt confident_ — _he knew he was quick._

 _The boy was close now; they would be crossing paths in a few seconds. It would be cake like it always way. The boy probably wouldn't notice his wallet gone until it was too late. At least, that's what he was thinking when his world was literally flipped upside down._

 _His back hit the ground with a thud, knocking the wind out of him. The boy he'd been stalking now knelt on top of him, holding a knife to his neck._

 _Their eyes met. The boy's eyes were an incredible royal blue, deep as the ocean surrounding his home island and just as deadly. Gon_ _had no idea that colors could be so rich._

 _"You picked the wrong person to rob, kid," Blue-eyes scowled. His_ _hand was steady as he thrust the knife against Gon's neck, just enough to sting. His glare rivaled the polar ice caps. He meant business._

 _But Gon Freecss wasn't that well-acquainted with fear_ _— in fact, his feelings bordered more on fascination. He didn't flinch. Instead, his eyes locked on those deep blues as he stared at the boy intently._

 _"...you have beautiful eyes," he said without thinking._

 _Those were the first words that fell out of his mouth._ _Blue-eyes almost dropped his knife._

 _"E-excuse me?" He sputtered, a soft pink settling across his cheeks. He looked completely thrown off, his shoulders tensed up. But then, as if suddenly remembering who was in control of the situation, he grabbed Gon by the collar and slammed him back against the ground._ _"What are you even playing at right now? Do you realize that I'm about to kill you?"_

 _Gon remained calm, a lazy smile forming on his lips_ _—_ _he didn't know why. He could see it in the boy's eyes, in the way that he carried himself — Blue-eyes had killed before. He was dangerous and dead-serious, and maybe just a bit irritated. He could and would end Gon's life right that moment if he really wanted to. But Gon didn't feel scared._

 _Blue-eyes cursed in what sounded like a foreign language. Baring his teeth, h_ _e flipped the knife back into his hand and stabbed it deep into Gon's forearm._ _Gon bit back a deep, low groan of pain._

 _He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and soon he was back to smiling. T_ _hat was apparently enough to drive Blue-eyes to the brink of insanity._

 _"Why the fuck are you still smiling?" Blue-eyes all but screamed, practically nose to nose with Gon._

 _Gon looked him straight at him again._ _"If you were really going to kill me, you would have done so already."_

 _Eyes wide, the boy immediately let go of him, startled._

 _/_

Despite the strangeness of it all, the memory made him smile. Who would have thought that the great and fearsome Killua Zoldyck could be flustered so easily by compliments? He grinned widely at the thought.

The treasured memory of their first meeting wrapped him in comfort. He was considering rolling over and giving sleep another shot, when he heard it _—_ Killua's screams.

He sprung out of bed, silk sheets left to flutter to the ground forgotten. It took him less than five seconds to cross the large suite to Killua's room. He tried the door but it was locked from the inside, in typical Killua fashion. He pressed his ear against it, but even with his acute hearing he couldn't hear anything coming from inside.

 _Did I imagine it?_

It drove him mad with anxiety. He contemplated breaking down the door. Finally, he decided to knock.

"Killua?" he called in. "Is everything alright?"

—

Killua straightened up with a start at the sound of Gon's voice right outside his door. Had he really been that loud?

"I'm fine," he croaked before bursting into coughs. His voice sounded rusty and strained, even to himself.

He could picture Gon's brows creasing on the other side of the door, and he swore under his breath. The last thing he needed was for his partner to see him in his current state; he would only worry.

With a rustle of the sheets, Killua rolled out of bed. "Give me a sec."

He padded over to the en-suite bathroom. As he leaned over the sink, he took in his reflection in the wide mirror. He looked ghostly-pale — more so than usual — his eyes grayish and faintly rimmed with red.

 _Shit. I can't let Gon see me like this._

He turned the tap on to cold and splashed some water on his face, which brought some color back to his cheeks. He did away with the tear streaks. When he was satisfied with his appearance, he dried himself off and headed toward the door. Gon was waiting for him outside, leaning against the door frame.

Troubled honey-brown eyes focused on him. "Killua. I was worried... I heard screaming."

Gon seemed to scrutinize his appearance, his brow slanting as he likely noticed the bags under Killua's eyes. Killua had the sudden, strong urge to hide.

"I had the worst nightmare. Leorio was in a tutu and just..." He stifled a fake yawn, trying to play it off.

Gon frowned, looking unconvinced. "But you sounded like you were in pain."

If it had been anyone else, they would have been convinced — after all, Killua was a great actor. But no one knew him better than Gon.

Killua mustered a small smile. "I'm alright, I promise."

Gon held his gaze for so long, with such intensity, that Killua had to look away eventually, a rosy heat rising to his face. His heart thumped incessantly in his chest; whether from tension or something else, he wasn't entirely sure. He glanced at the grandfather clock in the living room just as it struck eight. There was no point in trying to sleep now.

Gon raked his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

"Alright then," he said, though he didn't look convinced. "How about we go grab something to eat?"

The suggestion was punctuated by a merciful growl coming from Killua's stomach.

"Yeah. Lemme take a quick shower, then we can go."

* * *

Killua's shower had been brief, just enough for him to relieve some of the stress accumulated on his sore shoulders. He stood in front of the mirror once more, his bangs dripping and sticking to his forehead. His lips tightened in distaste as his fingers traced over the network of pink and white scars that marked his skin. He followed the firm ripples of his stomach all the way to his right hipbone, over which a deep, ugly scar sat.

/

 _"Big brother! I'm scared!" She burst into tears._

 _"Alluka!"_

 _He dove between her and the man, wrapping her in his arms, shielding her with his own body. She was all he had. He would protect her no matter what the cost. He would DIE for her._

 _His blood ran cold as he felt the barrel of a gun pressed against his back, as that chilling voice whispered in his ear._

 _"Say goodbye to your sister."_

 _The man pulled the trigger._

/

He clenched his fists, his nails etching crescent-shaped marks on his skin. This particular scar was a reminder of how he once hadn't been able to protect those he loved.

His thoughts drifted to Gon, cut and bruised but still smiling that stupid smile of his that could knock anyone off their feet.

He had failed once. He couldn't let it happen again.

* * *

"Are we taking the car or the bike?" came Killua's question as he walked into the foyer.

Gon glanced up from his cellphone to take in his partner's appearance. Killua was dressed effortlessly in khaki pants and a lavender pullover. It was a bit surprising, really. Killua was a bit of a fashionista, so it was rare to see him in such a simple outfit. Still, he couldn't deny that Killua made the outfit look _good_. Gon, on the other hand, wore dark jeans and a wine-colored henley that both fit comfortably and suited him well. Killua-chosen, Gon-approved.

"Neither," Gon responded. "We're walking, Killua."

"But, Gon—!"

Gon chuckled as the petulant look on Killua's face as he pushed him through the door. "No buts, you lazy ass. We haven't seen the sun in like a week."

"...Fine."

Killua summoned the elevator before shoving his hands into his pockets in acquiescence. He was stressed; Gon could tell from the uncharacteristic hunch of his shoulders, from the way Killua's gaze seemed lost in a faraway place that Gon wasn't a part of.

Something had changed overnight, and Gon didn't like it. Something was wrong and Killua was refusing to tell him, which made him wonder... was it something _he_ had done?

The elevator doors opened up with a _ding_ and the two of them walked in. As if on autopilot, Killua pressed the button for the lobby and then leaned back against the wall. He fiddled with a loose thread from the bottom of his pullover, his face unreadable. Gon watched him for a few seconds before breaking the silence.

"Killua."

"Hm?" Killua's absent gaze turned toward him.

 _He looks so out of it._

"Are you—" Gon paused to clear his throat. "—mad at me?"

Killua's eyes softened. "No, of course not, you idiot."

He gifted Gon with a smile that was small yet earnest, which eased his mind a bit.

"O-ok. Good."

At least he wasn't the source of Killua's stress. But he made a mental note to get to the bottom of this.

He hated it when Killua didn't smile.

* * *

"So this is the Tom Cat."

Killua blinked as he took in the little hole-in-the-wall that Leorio and Cass had so praised a few weeks ago. The building was small and made out of brick with a wrap-around porch and ivy creeping up the walls. A black metallic sign advertised 'The Tom Cat Café' in artsy script, the 'o' in Tom replaced with a stylized cat head. Not sure what to expect, the two walked into the establishment.

It was instantly obvious why Leorio loved this restaurant so much.

"It's a music café," Killua mused as he took in the interior appearance. Vintage posters and old records covered the walls, all homages to classic music artists like Jim Morrison and Bob Dylan. The food items also alluded to the theme with names like 'Cat Scratch Fever', 'Shine On You Crazy Diamond', and 'Buddy Holly'. The soft music playing in the background rounded out the effect.

They picked a small table for two in a secluded back corner, nestled between an Elvis cutout and a Marilyn Monroe poster. Gon glanced over at the nearby tables, eagerly taking in the sights and smells of food.

"Killuaaaa, everything looks and smells amazing!" Gon all but drooled as he ogled the enormous omelet on a neighboring woman's plate — a glorious mound of eggs, Cajun shrimp, andouille sausage, bell peppers, onions, Roma tomatoes, and a whole lot of cheddar cheese. Killua hummed his appreciation before turning back to the menu.

A waiter approached them. He was tall and lanky, with shoulder-length blond hair that covered his ears and fell into his forehead. He was dressed impeccably in a frilly white shirt, black slacks, and a necktie dotted with musical notes.

"Good morning, gentlemen. My name is Shaiapouf and I will be taking care of you this morning. May I start you off with a drink?" said the waiter as he took out his notepad and pen with a flourish.

"Just water, please," the two of them replied in unison, neither of them looking up from their menus as they did so.

The waiter raised an eyebrow at the harmonized answer but if he found it strange, he didn't mention it.

"Of course. Two glasses of water coming right up."

—

After Shaiapouf sauntered off, Gon laid down his menu on the table. He'd already decided on the 'Highway to Hell', a four-egg omelet filled with habanero chicken, chorizo andouille lots of roasted poblano and jalapeño peppers, and topped with sriracha and bleu cheese. Just thinking about it already had his mouth watering. Spicy foods were his favorite, even this early in the morning. Killua, however, was having a much harder time making up his mind.

"Jeez, this menu is too tempting. What should I have?"

"You should have whatever you want, Killua."

"I don't _know_ what I want, though. 'Everything' is not exactly a feasible choice."

Gon shook his head, trying — and failing — to hold back a grin. While sharp and decisive in the line of duty, Killua could be so fickle about trivial decisions like this. He watched in amusement as Killua's lips curled into a pout, clear blue eyes focused on the menu.

 _Heh, cute._

Gon stretched both arms above his head but quickly drew back in pain. He winced as he cradled his right arm close to his body.

"Gon?" Killua was startled out of concentration. He furrowed his brow as he glanced across the table, the menu forgotten.

"Nothing. It's nothing," Gon waved off. "I'm just a little sore."

It wasn't a big deal. He didn't need to worry Killua even more.

"Bullshit. Lemme see," Killua said firmly.

Gon could have said no, but that wouldn't have stopped Killua from reaching over the table. With a sigh, he reluctantly held out his right arm, the sleeve pushed up to the elbow. Killua's fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled him closer. Gon watched with half-lidded eyes as Killua traced careful fingers over the contours of his wound. The touch was light and airy, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. It almost made him break out in goosebumps.

He didn't want it to stop.

And yet, Killua's voice brought him back to reality. "This is pretty bad, Gon. Make sure you take care of it or—"

"—or it'll scar. Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, Killua. I'll be fine."

Gon fidgeted in his chair, willing down a blush that threatened to creep up his face. He hoped Killua didn't notice.

"You say that and yet..." Killua flipped his arm over, his fingers finding a thin but deep-looking scar on Gon's forearm.

This one he remembered well — maybe a little _too_ well. And judging from the ghost of a frown that crossed his face, so did Killua.

"Killua, it's not—" Gon began, but Killua suddenly let go of his arm as Shaipouf reappeared with two glass tumblers filled with ice and water.

"Here you go, gentlemen." He set the glasses on the table and then turned to face them with a smile. "Are you ready to order?"

"Yes, please. I would like the Highway to Hell," said Gon, eliciting a grin from Shaiapouf.

"Oh, excellent! If you're a fan of spice, sir, you will not be disappointed." The waiter nodded at Gon and then turned to Killua, who was back to perusing the menu. "And for you, sir?"

"He'll have the Eternal Flame. We'll be here all week if I don't choose from him."

Gon chuckled at the mock-offended look Killua shot at him over his menu. He knew Killua and his penchant for sweets, chocolate in particular. The sweet cinnamon sugar crepes — filled with chocolate ganache and crème brûlée, and topped with chocolate drizzle and vanilla amaretto strawberries — that Gon had just ordered for him were bound to please him.

Shaiapouf's smile widened as he finished writing down the order. "Wonderful. Will that be all?"

When the two of them nodded their heads, the waiter excused himself and started walking away. He stopped a few feet away, however, and turned back to face them.

"I just wanted to let you know," he said suddenly, "that I think it's really great, what you two are doing."

Killua quirked an eyebrow while Gon shot him a curious stare.

The waiter cleared his throat and elaborated. "I mean, being a couple in public."

Gon's eyes widened the size of dinner plates, his pulse instantly racing for no good reason. None whatsoever.

"You've got it wrong. We're just friends," Killua said just a little bit too quickly. His cheeks were kissed pink like cotton candy.

Shaiapouf tilted his head in confusion. "Oh? I thought I saw you two holding hands."

"We're not—" Gon attempted to explain, but the words wouldn't come out. "I mean, we weren't..."

Gods, why were words so freaking hard right now?

"Oh dear me, I just assumed... you will have to forgive me." Shaiapouf apologized, but he didn't look very sorry. In fact, he was grinning. "I know it's none of my business but, for future reference, you two would make a ridiculously attractive couple."

With that Shaiapouf left the table, leaving Gon and Killua completely speechless. As Gon watched him leave, he couldn't help but wish that Shaiapouf had been right about him and Killua holding hands.

* * *

 _But I wasn't composed of broken bones or demon limbs._

 _So please watch over me, and be the light to carry me._

 _Please be the light, the light that carries me._

* * *

Demon Limbs - PVRIS


	4. Magnets

_I might be better off without you, there's too many people all around you._

 _All these vultures that surround you, they don't know a thing about you._

 _You're so gorgeous, cause you make me feel gorgeous._

* * *

 _"_ _You bet it all on me... why?"_

 _Gon stood in front of Killua, bruised and beaten up, his broken left arm held close to his body. He'd had a good run_ _—_ _d_ _espite being only fifteen years old and a first-time challenger, he had been able to make it to the 180th floor of Heavens Arena in just under a month. His relatively harmless looks contrasted so much with his ferocious_ _fighting skills that people had shown up from as far as Padokea just to see him fight. The bets on him had been exorbitant._

 _Among those betting on him almost religiously had been Killua._

 _The boy with the silver hair simply shrugged, his hands sliding into his pockets. "You seemed pretty strong, and I recognized your face. It seemed like a no-brainer to me."_

 _"But you lost everything!" Gon was still shocked about the whole ordeal. After his last fight with a monstrously strong man named Phinks_ _—_ _which had ended in his own defeat_ _—_ _he had come out into the hallway to find people gossiping about the wagers from the fight. Rumors were that a boy with silver hair had gone all or nothing in Gon's favor and had lost millions of jenny because of it. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part, but he had a feeling that it was someone he knew._ _Those suspicions were confirmed when he ran into the boy in question in front of the vending machines a few feet down the hall._

 _Those beautiful eyes were just as blue and striking as the day they first met._

 _"Chill. It's no big deal," Killua waved it off, not looking bothered in the least. "You look like hell, by the way," he pursed his lips as he appraised the other boy from head to toe. He scratched the side of his head and, for a moment, Gon thought he saw concern flash through his eyes—however, the look was so fleeting he could have also just imagined it._

 _"_ _You should probably go to the hospital. Anyway, see ya."_ _W_ _ith that, Killua turned around and began to walk away._

 _"Wait, Killua!" Gon called out, causing the young assassin to stop in his tracks—Gon remembered his name? Taking a deep breath, Gon continued. "I'll make it up to you! I will pay you back every last cent that you lost here today."_

 _His declaration was full of passion, which caused Killua to turn around and gape at him._

 _"Are you stupid?" The assassin was wide-eyed, and frankly just a bit astonished. Was this guy for real? "I was the one who decided to spend all my money! It has nothing to do with you!"_

 _"It has everything to do with me. You put your entire trust in me, and I disappointed you. I will make this right." Amber eyes shone in determination, Gon's fists tightly clenched at his side. "I will help you earn back every last cent you lost, by any means necessary. After all, I am indebted to you, to begin with," he referred to their first meeting, after which Killua had 'inadvertently' dropped just enough money to pay for a ticket to Whale Island before disappearing. He held Killua's gaze stubbornly. "There is nothing you can say or do to convince me otherwise."_

 _Killua couldn't look into those eyes for very long without submitting."Tch. Idiot..." he simply muttered as he turned on his heel and started walking away again._

 _As he watched the retreating boy's back, Gon couldn't help but grin. That hadn't been a blatant 'no' or 'get lost'—if anything, based on what little he knew of Killua, that was probably as positive a reaction as he was going to get. Suddenly feeling lighter, he ran to catch up._

 _"Ne Killuaaaa, wait for me!"_

* * *

Gon, the charming idiot with his magnetic personality, skewed priorities, and ridiculously disconcerting sense of justice. The events had taken place over five years ago and the 'debt' had long been repaid, but who was counting? Killua certainly wasn't.

Spending the morning with Gon exploring the streets of Sebokeng had brought back many fond memories, which distracted Killua and helped him feel more at ease. By the time they'd made it back to the hotel he was relaxed and tired. He'd slept the rest of the day after that, and woken up that night feeling refreshed and ready to rumble.

However, now he had a certain problem he had to deal with, and that problem was called 'Stubborn-Ass Freecss'.

"Gon, let me in!" Killua huffed from outside Gon's locked bedroom door, arms neatly folded over his chest. His right foot tapped on the floor impatiently.

Killua Zoldyck had many pet peeves, and being forced to wait unnecessarily was one of them.

"No," came the muffled sound of Gon's voice from inside. The ex-assassin's eye twitched in irritation.

"Oh come on Gon," Killua mellowed down his tone in an attempt to sweet-talk, "I wanna see what it looks like."

A pause.

"Nooooo, you'll just laugh at me!"

Even without seeing his face, it was obvious that Gon was pouting.

"Would I _really_ do that?"

"Yes!"

"For the love of..." Killua took in a deep breath as he attempted to preserve the last modicum of his self-control.

It didn't work.

"Gon Freecss, I am going to knock down this door!"

"Fine, fine!" The door finally cracked open and Gon's head poked out. He looked red-faced and flustered. "Just... give me a sec, okay? These are tight."

"First of all, they _can't_ be that tight. You're not _that_ much bigger than me. Secondly, Indigo is a pretty exclusive club so if we want to even stand a chance at getting in, you're gonna have to—" Killua's lecture screeched to a halt as his jaw dropped.

Gon now stood before him, looking completely embarrassed, in his outfit for the night.

"...what do you think?" Gon asked finally, scratching the back of his head sheepishly as he did a little turn on the spot.

"Um... you look. I mean... yeah," Killua swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

The two of them had made a deal on the way back home earlier that morning—Killua would pick Gon's outfit for the night as long as Gon got to drive the bike there and back, a deal that his partner appeared to be regretting right now.

So here Gon was, in a tight black t-shirt and an even tighter pair of designer jeans, both courtesy of Killua's closet. It had never been so obvious to Killua just how much broader Gon's shoulders and biceps were until this instant, and now it would be impossible to deny. The shirt that fit perfectly on Killua's leaner frame was more like a second skin on Gon. And don't even get him started on the jeans...

Gon looked spectacular.

"I think I'll fit in," Gon's voice snapped him out of his daze.

"Better than you think," Killua nodded as he glanced away, face burning all the way to his ears.

 _What's wrong with me?_

Gon twisted around, touched his toes, leaned as far as he could to ensure the fabric wouldn't tear with any sudden movements. "So far so good. What are you wearing, Killua?"

"I just kinda threw something together," Killua shrugged. "I suppose I should—" he was suddenly cut off by the sound of someone knocking on a door—their door.

The two of them exchanged looks. Who the hell could it be? They weren't expecting anyone.

"Go." Killua shoved Gon into his room and then stalked over to the door, feeling his pockets for any weapons. Eventually, he drew a switchblade he had mercifully been carrying on him.

—

Meanwhile, Gon scrambled through the mess in his room, tossing fliers and clothes around as he searched for his weapons case. He finally found it underneath his bed behind his duffel bag.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath as he took in the contents of the case.

He pulled out two pistols, one of them empty and the other loaded with a single bullet, and an also empty shotgun—he'd forgotten to reload last time. They had some more ammo but it was all in Killua's room and he didn't have time for that right now.

 _This'll just have to do._

He just hoped they looked intimidating enough to scare away their visitor, else they'd be in trouble.

He quietly followed Killua into the hallway and threw him the pistol with the bullet.

"Really, this is all you've got?" Killua signed, the pistol's weight (or lack thereof) quickly cluing him into their shortage in ammunition.

"Shut up, mine's empty." Brows furrowed, Gon's lips twisted into a half-pout as he signed back. He carefully put his hand on the handle and motioned for Killua to get ready.

 _'One_ — two — three!'

He threw the door open and they both aimed to kill.

"Whoa! Guys, it's only us!" Leorio screamed, his hands shooting up into the air. With a squeak Cass ducked behind him, appropriating him as her human shield. Kurapika stood calmly to the side with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Told you we should have given them a heads-up," the blonde shook his head.

"Leorio, you idiot!" Killua roared.

Gon quickly wrapped his arms around his raging partner, laughing hard, in order to keep him from pouncing onto Leorio and stabbing the ever-living shit out of him.

"HOW IS THIS MY FAULT? It could have been anyone! Killua, you were ready to shoot my brains out!" Leorio howled, carefully inching away from the door.

"That's a normal occurrence, Leorio," Kurapika chuckled as he let himself into the suite. Cass eeped at the dark look on Killua's face before following the blonde through the door.

"Well at least GON wouldn't pull the trigger on me," Leorio huffed as said thief released Killua, who glared daggers at both of them before storming back inside.

"Not that it would have mattered..." With a laugh, Gon tossed his pistol towards Leorio. "Killua had a bullet, but mine's empty."

"Well DAMN." Leorio quickly recovered. "It's a good thing I'm here then!"

He dumped the two large bags he had dropped earlier onto the coffee table in the living room and started unzipping them.

"This week we have your traditional pistols," he used his best announcer's voice as he presented each of the weapons with a flourish, much like a showroom salesman. "Two revolvers equipped with laser sight, two semi-automatic pistols, two wide-range shot guns—"

"And—" Kurapika cut off Leorio with a grin as he tossed a seemingly normal rifle at Killua, who caught it with ease. "—the infamous Paladiknight special! The adaptable assault rifle, with foregrip, launcher, sniper, and shotgun attachments, making it your go-to weapon for any situation."

Cass modeled each of the attachments as Gon clapped, his face betraying how giddy he really was at the sight of all the new 'toys'.

"DAMN IT KURAPIKA, YOU STOLE MY THUNDER!"

The rest of the group burst out in laughter.

"Hold on." Killua stopped laughing, azure eyes narrowed as a thought hit him. "While we appreciate the fire power, what the HELL are you guys doing here?"

"Errr... we had to bring you these?" Leorio offered weakly. The arctic glare coming from Killua screamed that he didn't believe him for a second. "Fine. C'mon Killua, did you _really_ expect us to just sit at home and miss out on all the fun tonight?"

"I tried to stop them, but they ganged up on me," Kurapika sighed as he motioned to Cass and Leorio, who straightened up with innocent smiles painted across their faces.

"We have good intentions, I swear! We figured you two could use the backup."

"We don't _do_ backup, Leorio," Killua snapped cooly, hands on his hips.

"As much as I hate to agree with Leorio, you just might tonight," Kurapika chose his words carefully, so as to not incur Killua's wrath. "As you can probably imagine, Indigo isn't exactly easy to get into, so you could use a diversion. And once you two _do_ make it in, you'll need eyes and ears everywhere."

"And that's one of the reasons why I'm here," came Cass's voice finally, a certain glint in her eyes.

—

"The other is this."

Cass had spent the past half hour balancing on a step stool as she attempted to tame Gon's thick hair into something more 'club worthy'. She eventually gave up, resigning herself to simply tidying up this unruly spikes as best as she could with some hair gel.

"Your hair is a monster," she sighed in defeat as she wiped her hands clean of the gel.

Gon laughed apologetically. "I'm sorry Cass, it has a mind of its own."

"It's okay, Gon." She smiled sweetly—she couldn't really be upset at him. "Can you go grab the purple case from my backpack? I need to do Kil's hair next."

"Sure thing!" Gon beamed as he disappeared out the doorway on his errand, leaving Killua to take his place.

Cass took this opportunity to ask a probing question.

"Gon looks good tonight, doesn't he?" She ran her hands through Killua's hair, her fingers lightly massaging his scalp in hopes of relaxing him. She watched his reflection in the mirror before them, awaiting a reaction.

Killua averted his eyes, a slight flush to his cheeks that didn't go unnoticed. "Sure. I mean... Gon always looks good."

"I suppose he does." A full-blown grin now spread across her face as she dispensed some light mousse into the palm of her hand. She spread it to both her hands and began to work on Killua's hair.

His locks were much more fun to play with—they were soft and pliable, and they remained so even after she applied the mousse. It only took her a few minutes to style his hair—she'd decided on giving him a sexy tousled look. When she was finished she stood back to admire her handiwork, looking extremely pleased with the results.

"Hn. Not bad," Killua nodded his approval as he took in his reflection in the mirror, tilting his head to either side to get a better look.

"Not bad? Kil, this is a work of PURE GENIUS! You look great," she declared just as Gon walked into the room. Excellent. "Gon, don't you think Kil looks great?"

"He does! Though Killua always looks amazing." Gon smiled earnestly and handed Cass the purple case. Killua's eyes dropped to his lap, a light blush sweeping his cheeks as he mumbled something about how Gon shouldn't say such embarrassing things.

Cass smiled to herself. These two were so simple, yet so damn oblivious.

"Thanks, Gon. Now for the last finishing touch." She pulled out a dark pencil out of her bag and gripped Killua's face gently. "Don't move—"

"W-wait! Isn't that eyeliner?" Killua almost fell off his chair as he scrambled to get away, but Cass was having none of it.

"Very observant, Kil darling." She gripped his face more firmly. "Now stay still." That was an order, not a request.

"B-but what about Gon! Is he getting some too?" Killua continued to stall, hoping he could distract her and maybe make a swift getaway.

Cass suddenly stopped, dumbfounded, shooting him her best 'are you freaking kidding me?' look.

"Killua please, in what universe would Gon Freecss ever be able to pull off eyeliner?"

The three of them couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

"We'll head out first. Look for the black Touareg," Kurapika called out over his shoulder as he tossed Leorio the keys to the shiny Volkswagen SUV they'd be driving. "We'll call you when we get there and then wait for your signal."

"Got it. See you guys there!" Gon waved them off before turning to Killua. The ex-assassin looked tense again and, whether if it was because of their plan or for a different reason entirely, he didn't know. "Everything alright, Killua?"

"Yeah..." Killua seemed to snap out of it, picking up the helmets and handing Gon his. "I was just thinking of things, is all. Let's go."

Gon didn't prod any further.

—

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up behind the black Touareg and took off their helmets. Killua examined his reflection on the vehicle's gleaming surface.

"Amazing... it's still presentable," he muttered in disbelief as he checked over his hair, only needing to straighten out a lock or two—that 'mousse' stuff must be some sort of black magic or something. He glanced over at Gon when he let out a low whistle.

"Wow. Check it out!"

His eyes followed Gon's to face the building that towered over them.

Indigo was humongous. The nightclub portion alone, a large dark blue building embellished with lights, seemed to span a full block and three stories. Attached to it was what appeared to be a hotel, another building many more stories taller. Quickly Killua's assassin senses kicked in. In a few seconds he had counted the number of floors, fire escapes, and visible exit doors—he assumed they would be mirrored on the other side. From the spacing of the windows, he estimated about 12 rooms per floor. The hotel was most likely their target's real destination.

"You guys ready?" Cass's voice was audible through their concealed earpieces.

The pair exchanged looks and nodded. They were ready. "Go."

The two thieves watched as a pair of familiar figures rounded the corner. Leorio wore his trademark navy suit while Kurapika dressed more casually in slacks and a polished button-down. The older man's arm slid around the blonde's shoulders as the two walked straight towards the entrance.

"Oi oi. We're in a hurry, so make it quick," Leorio snapped, his tone obnoxious as he held up an obviously fake VIP pass and waved it in the bouncers' faces. Kurapika did his best to look like completely disinterested arm candy.

"I think we all know that's a fake, sir." One of the bouncers, a tall bald man with arms the size of Kurapika's body, narrowed his eyes.

"Are you kidding me? This shit's the real deal! Now move aside. I have things to do and alcohol to drink."

"Heh. It's working," Gon said quietly, holding back a grin as Leorio got all up in the men's faces.

"Go. Now's our chance." Killua gently nudged him towards the door, where an all-out war had broken out between Leorio and the bouncers. Kurapika stood to the side, checking his watch and looking like he wished he'd brought a different date for the night.

"C'mon, look!" Leorio suddenly spoke up, pointing at the approaching Gon and Killua. "These guys will tell you, I come here all the time."

"I have never seen you before in my life," Killua deadpanned as he quickly flashed his own fake pass, a more realistic-looking version of Leorio's. The bouncers currently had their hands so full with the older man that they only gave the ex-assassin a passing glance before waving him on.

"I think that proves my point, sir. Now get your ass off my front door and don't come back." The bouncer manhandled Leorio out into the street. A bored-looking Kurapika began walking the other way, mumbling something that sounded like 'this is why my mother told me not to date lawyers...' The other bouncer quickly glanced at Gon's pass before also waving him through.

They were in.

* * *

"Well, that was fun," Gon grinned as the two of them made their way down the long entrance hallway. Killua broke out into a smile as well. That had certainly been entertaining.

"Told you we'd get you in," Leorio's voice came up in his earpiece.

"You should be a professional disruptor of the peace. You're a natural." Killua's tone was casual, though it held just a bit of teasing bite. Leorio naturally got all up in arms.

"What was that, you—"

"Leorio, calm down. Killua's just messing with you," Kurapika's voice interrupted over the earpiece. "Cass is working on their security system. We'll let you know when we're in."

"Roger that. I'm willing to bet Sauveterre is already here in the hotel. Let us know if you find out anything. In the meantime, we'll keep an eye out for Zhakarov," Killua replied as they made it to the end of the entrance hallway. The glass on the door leading to the club was completely fogged up.

"Aye." The voices in their heads disappeared just as Gon pushed the door open.

Their senses were immediately flooded with electronic dance music and the intense blue and purple lighting that had earned the nightclub its name. The entire atmosphere was hot and sticky. The wide dance floor, which culminated in an enormous stage occupied by the record-spinning DJ, was completely packed. The loud music easily drowned out any other sound, making it hard to speak. The two thieves looked at each other before beginning their trek across the dance floor, maneuvering their way between groping hands and gyrating bodies until they made it to a quieter, more isolated corner.

Killua's senses were on high alert as he looked around. He quickly found and focused on the older crowd, which naturally lingered away from the dance floor and closer to the bar. The mass lacked any familiar faces—it didn't look like Zhakarov was here yet.

—

Gon leaned back against the wall, carefully observing Killua. His partner's face was neutral except for the very slight crease of his brow, a detail that would have gone unnoticed by anyone other than himself. Killua was tense again, his entire body wound up tightly like a spring. Why? He didn't normally get this stressed out over jobs. Why was tonight so different?

He just wanted to reach out and run his hands over Killua's tense shoulders. He wanted to know what was going though his head. He wanted to draw him close, provide some sort of comfort—yet he knew he shouldn't. They were on the job, and Killua was his partner. _Partner..._

"I need a drink," Killua spoke up suddenly, taking off before Gon even had the chance to acknowledge him.

The entire dance floor cheered as the DJ began spinning a crowd favorite.

 _The way you walked in, I saw you standing there. You caught me staring at you hot like wow._

Killua probably wasn't doing it on purpose. Nevertheless, Gon's eyes remained glued on his form as he sauntered towards the bar, an ocean of people parting just to let him through. His partner's movements were smooth and deliberate, head up, shoulders back, arms swinging loosely back and forth as his hips swiveled slightly with every step. Gon swallowed hard—he couldn't help but stare. Hell, everyone else was staring. Killua Zoldyck was the most attractive person in the room by a landslide.

 _You came a little closer. You know you make me blush. You've got a body that is hot like wow._

"Damn, look at him go," he heard someone close by say, and amber eyes narrowed instantly. He couldn't help the strange feeling, the tightening in his chest, the angry heat that prickled his skin. He clenched his fists subconsciously as he fought the urge to punch the random guy in the face. He couldn't stand the idea of anybody else looking at Killua that way, with such a hungry look in their eyes.

 _Why...?_

His eyes widened as it finally hit him like a speeding locomotive.

 _Is this what jealousy feels like?_

Yes, he was jealous. He was utterly, incredibly jealous.

—

 _And when I see you boy, you make my heartbeat jump. I can't stop looking at you hot like wow._

"Chocolate martini. Chocolate syrup on the rim."

The young bartender, who had been previously rushing around trying to serve four or five people, took one look at Killua and his face immediately flushed scarlet. The ex-assassin leaned over the bar, both of his arms folded neatly in front of him. Skin-tight black jeans hung low on his hips, his sleeveless indigo jacket showing off pale yet sculpted arms. His silver hair curled into the back of his neck and fell into his midnight blue eyes—the very same eyes made even more strikingly blue by the dark kohl rimming them.

"O-of course, right away!"

 _I think of all those things I wanna do with you. And then I try to stop it hot like wow._

Within a few minutes, Killua had his drink in front of him. He leaned back against the bar, head propped up on his left hand as he idly stirred his chocolate martini with his right. All around him, drunk people laughed and hollered as they danced and drank to their hearts' content. He glanced to the side as he suddenly felt eyes on him.

A group of guys around his age stood at the bar a few feet away, talking among themselves as they sneaked glances at him. Killua turned away—they were not a threat. He'd chosen the bar for its strategic location close to an entrance, the elevator, and the stairway leading up to the hotel. If Zhakarov walked in, Killua would be the first to know.

 _I bet you look much better with no clothes on. Although I know I shouldn't, hot like wow._

"I noticed no one here has caught your attention yet."

Killua barely glanced up from his sweet drink to take a better look at the man addressing him. Short brown hair, clear blue eyes, most likely early to mid-twenties, moderately good-looking—not a threat. In less than ten seconds he was back to staring at his drink, a look of complete disinterest drawn across his face. He slowly ran his finger along the glass rim before bringing it up to his lips for a taste. Sweet.

 _I know you see me looking, I see you looking too. You know you make me feel hot like wow._

The man seemingly took the silence as Killua playing hard to get.

He slid up behind Killua, pressing himself against the ex-assassin's back with a predatory smile on his face. The pungent smell of alcohol was obvious in his breath. Killua made no move except to bring the martini glass up to his lips.

"How about hanging out with me tonight, then? I bet I could make you see stars," the man leaned over to breathe into Killua's ear, daring hands sliding down the ex-assassin's bare arms. Killua tilted his head forward, long bangs falling into his eyes, biting down on his bottom lip in an attempt to keep his cool. This was a _job_ . It would be ideal for him to keep a low profile. However, he couldn't _stand_ the idea of anybody touching him so intimately. Anybody except—

His vision of gleaming golden eyes was disrupted by cries of pain, and suddenly he couldn't feel the unfamiliar body pressed against his own anymore. He whipped around to see the stranger's arm twisted uncomfortably behind his back by one very pissed-off Gon Freecss.

His partner seemed less than amused, his jaw set, an uncharacteristically dark look in his eyes.

"I would really appreciate it if you kept your hands off my _boyfriend,_ " Gon glowered. His voice was so thick and low, so _out of character_ , that it made Killua's eyes widen.

"I-I'm sorry, bro! I didn't know!"

"Fair enough. Now get lost."

The man didn't need to get told twice—he was gone within seconds of Gon releasing him. As Gon glared at the man's retreating form, Killua watched him quietly, his lips slightly parted in shock.

"Sorry, Killua. I may have overdone it a little," Gon finally broke the silence, shooting Killua a sheepish grin to go with his apology. He seemed to be back to normal—smiling, cheerful, mischievous Gon. "Something came over me. I just couldn't let him touch you like that."

 _What was that all about?_

Killua's heart pounded in his chest. Never in their five years of partnership had he ever seen Gon look so angry or so intimidating before—over _him_ no less—and he really, _really_ wanted to know why.

But now was not the time.

He was forced back on full alert after catching a glimpse of a familiar face near the side entrance. An older man—tall, broad, and rugged—straightened his designer suit and made a beeline for the stairway Killua had been watching. Four men in black suits followed him, while another four lingered by the edge of the dance floor.

"Zhakarov," was all he said, and Gon understood.

They couldn't let him get away.

* * *

The two thieves cautiously followed the men at a distance. One of their golden rules was 'If you can see them, they can see you' so they stayed far enough to remain out of sight, but not far enough that they couldn't pick up Zhakarov's distinguishable gait. Thanks to Gon's incredibly acute hearing, this posed no problem.

Killua kept track of how many flights they'd gone up—the last floor had been twenty-three. They were about two-thirds up the building already. The fact that the older man had chosen the stairway rather than the elevator for such a climb made it obvious that he didn't want to be followed.

 _What are you up to?_

They finally turned into a long hallway, just in time to see Zhakarov and his lackeys disappear back into a stairwell on the opposite side. Killua was about to follow when Gon grabbed his arm.

—

"Wait... some of them are turning back," Gon muttered, his ears picking up the sound of the opposite stairwell door opening. A few seconds later, two of the guards rounded the corner.

Gon suddenly stiffened.

"Shit shit shit!" He quickly about-faced, his normally sun-kissed complexion turned oatmeal-gray. Killua shot him a questioning look. "One of those guards coming this way, he's one of the guys that I knocked out yesterday," he explained. Thankfully the man was still too far away to be able to recognize Gon's face for now, but that wouldn't be true in about a minute.

—

"You can't be serious!" Killua's eyebrows shot upward. "Gon, this is why you kill them—" he stopped mid-sentence as the sound of steps grew closer.

Despite Gon's best attempts to hide it, it was obvious that he was panicking. If those men recognized him, it would ruin everything. Zhakarov would know someone was onto him. His plan would change.

That couldn't happen. This was the only lead they had, and their client was counting on them.

Killua's brain worked in overdrive as he considered all possible options.

They could try to take the men on, but they were already too close for a sneak attack and he also couldn't guarantee the two men wouldn't try to cause a ruckus before they were taken out.

They could always turn back, down the stairwell and back to the club, then wait for Zhakarov to come back down, but that particular plan displeased him. Or they could—

"They're almost here. I'm so stupid. What are we gonna—"

Gon was cut off by Killua's lips pressed against his own, Killua pushing him against the wall and blocking any view of their faces, not a moment too soon.

—

Gon was pretty sure his brain stopped working.

The world ceased all spinning, and the universe came to a screeching halt, and suddenly all he could feel, all he could _process_ was Killua's mouth moving against his, lips soft and sweet with undertones of chocolate martini. The adrenaline burned through him, hands twitching involuntarily before coming to rest at the base of Killua's spine, pulling him close.

His heart could very well explode at any given second.

They continued to kiss until they could no longer hear footsteps, until the two men were long gone.

Stop. They should stop.

But his hand moving to cradle the back of Killua's head, to pull Killua closer, said he wasn't stopping. Killua was _there_ —was he real?—and they were _kissing_ , and time just seemed to stop and merge until Leorio's hesitant voice chimed in their ears.

"Er... guys? I think they're gone now."

 _Fuck._

Killua immediately pulled away, panting, and looked over his shoulder. Mounted on the wall, a few feet away and so small he almost missed it, was a security camera. It seemed like Cass had finally managed to hack into the venue's security system. He turned to look at Gon, his heaving chest betraying how breathless he truly was.

For a moment Gon locked his gaze and held it. Killua's eyes looked so dark and stormy and _beautiful_.

The blood rushed in his ears, his face still flushed, his lips still parted. Smoldering ochre eyes were at half-mast as he involuntarily brought a hand up, intended to touch his partner's face. "Killua..."

But Killua quickly looked away, a blush sweeping across his cheeks. "T-that kiss was strictly professional."

"Killua, wait—" Gon's tone was pleading, but his partner was already gone. He heaved a pained sigh as he slumped against the wall, hiding his face in his hands. His entire body trembled, his heart aching in a way that it never had before. "Goddammit..."

He was done denying it. He couldn't lie to himself anymore.

He wanted Killua so badly it hurt.

* * *

Gorgeous - X Ambassadors

Hot Like Wow - Nadia Oh


	5. Confrontation

_A/N: Here's an update just in time for Christmas and my birthday. Happy Holidays! Thank you so much for your support!_

* * *

 _I know it's warmer where you are, and it's safer by your side._

 _But right now I can't be what you want. Just give it time._

* * *

Soundlessly, Killua dashed up the stairs in an attempt to make up for lost time. He could barely make out the click-clack of footsteps—Zhakarov had gotten much further ahead. His hearing wasn't as good as Gon's, so he would have to follow him at a closer distance to compensate.

 _Gon's lips, hot and trembling against his._

Being alone certainly had its advantages. The skills garnered during his former line of work made it possible for him to move more quickly, more stealthily by himself. It didn't take long for him to eventually catch up, the three sets of footsteps now clearly echoing in the stairwell.

 _Gon's hands on his back, in his hair, pulling him close._

Though he knew full-well what he had to do, Killua wasn't thinking straight. Thoughts, visions, _feelings_ from that kiss kept reeling his thoughts away from the matter at hand.

No! He had to focus. He had a job to do.

He watched Zhakarov swipe a key card and step into room 310. His lackeys followed him in and slammed the door behind them. Killua instantly leaned back against the wall, letting out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, shaky fingers tangling into silver locks.

 _What is wrong with me?_

He had almost lost himself back there—he couldn't stop thinking about it. He hadn't pulled away, though he was sure he'd meant to. Fuck, if Leorio hadn't said anything, Killua wouldn't have stopped. And Gon...

 _Gon didn't seem like he wanted to pull away either._

Shit.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be _._ He wasn't supposed to ache for Gon like this, to crave that touch, those lips, the way he did. That kiss had rocked him in a way he hadn't expected.

He wasn't supposed to feel this way about Gon.

With a hushed groan, he pushed himself off the wall and frantically messed up his hair in an attempt to clear his head. Midnight blues then focused back on the door to room 310 as he brought a hand up to his earpiece.

* * *

"I managed to catch up to them. They just walked into room 310."

Killua's voice in his head snapped Gon out of his own thoughts. He slapped at his face with both hands—he had to pull himself together. They were in the middle of a job. Now was not the time to deal with distracting things like 'feelings'.

"Gon, twenty-sixth floor. I'm at the far end of the hallway."

It took a few moments for the raven-haired thief to muster a reply, voice low and croaky. "Got it. I'll meet you there."

Now that there was no fear of being caught, the climb up the next few floors was completely uneventful. Barely five minutes later he found the room, and then joined Killua a dozen feet further down the hallway.

No words were exchanged about the kiss from a few minutes ago.

"I attached a Featherwing to the door when I first crossed the hallway," Killua informed him, which he acknowledged with a slight nod.

The Featherwing was a bug of Kurapika's invention, a small disc half the size of a thumbtack in diameter. The device used passive acoustic location to determine the number and position of people inside a room. If things went from bad to ugly real quick, they would at least know how many they'd be up against.

"Cass, talk to me," Gon hummed as he brought a hand up to his ear.

"Umm. I'm analyzing the sound and vibration data being sent to us from Feather. Based on the results, I think there're only three people in the room." Cass sounded a bit uncertain, causing Gon to knit his brows. Only three? That was unexpected.

"You're telling me that the room was empty prior to them walking in?" Killua stated more than questioned.

"...yes?" Cass replied tentatively, though she couldn't sound more unsure.

"Cass."

"I'm sorry, Kil! In my head, it makes no sense, but unless they're as still as a corpse, there's no one else in there."

The small sound-analyzing bug was either malfunctioning or calling it as clear as day. Unless Zhakarov had suddenly gotten the urge to shove one of his men off the balcony, Sauveterre was not in that room.

"You know, it's possible that this is just Zhakarov's personal room, and that he is meeting Sauveterre somewhere else in the building," Gon volunteered. "Indigo is huge, after all."

Before Killua could respond, the door to room 310 suddenly swung open. Gon grabbed Killua by the arm, tugging him back around the corner before they could be seen. A familiar thin face soon came into view as Zhakarov exited the room followed by both his men.

"He's leaving," Killua muttered, nonplussed.

Gon's hand came to rest on his shoulder. "He's probably meeting with Sauveterre now. We have to follow him."

"Right." But there was still an uneasy feeling in Killua's gut. He trained his sharp eyes on the door again. "I want to check his room."

"What? Why?" Gon's eyebrows shot upward. It wasn't like Killua to get sidetracked during a job. Sauveterre was their real target, so searching Zhakarov's room would be meaningless, at least for their purpose.

"I just... have to," the ex-assassin pressed on. "It'll be quick, I promise. Just stay on Zhakarov and let me know when he meets up with Sauveterre. I'll join you soon."

Gon frowned as he realized the implications of their separation. The stubborn part of him wanted to say 'I'm not leaving you' but he knew that would be an insult—Killua was more than capable of taking care of himself. For several moments he stood still, fighting the urge to stay back.

Finally, his shoulders slacked in resignation. "Fine. But if anything happens—"

"I should be saying that to you, idiot. You're always getting in trouble." Killua couldn't help but smirk, things suddenly feeling normal between them when Gon smiled back. "We have the earpieces so if anything happens, just talk to me. I'll do the same. Got it?"

"Got it," Gon nodded, more at ease with the idea. He shot Killua one last meaningful look before disappearing into the stairwell.

—

This left Killua by himself to analyze the door to the room. It was of standard construction, with a brushed nickel knob and a key card slot right above it. There was a power port visible under the lock.

 _Bingo._

Killua pulled out a microcontroller from his pocket and plugged it into the port. Within seconds the device accessed the lock's memory, retrieved the key combination, and then triggered the opening mechanism with a click. As he cracked the door open, he silently thanked Gon for introducing him to gadgets like this.

He stepped into the room, making sure to shut the door quietly behind him. He did a quick scan—there was a suitcase that one of the men had been carrying earlier, now set on top of the bed. A briefcase leaned against a classic mahogany desk, atop of which sat a laptop, seemingly charging, and some paper documents. Odd for Zhakarov to leave something like a laptop just sitting around, but he most likely needed to charge it after the trip.

He slid into the desk chair and booted up the computer, taking his time to scan through the papers while he waited for the system to start up. Most of them were travel documents with a few job offers here and there—nothing that he really cared about, as expected. Zhakarov wouldn't be that careless.

Once the computer finished booting up, a login screen flashed before his eyes. He took a small transmitter card out from one of his jacket pockets and slipped it into one of the side slots.

"Cass, I need you to break in for me."

"On it."

While he waited, he continued to survey the rest of the room. They had only been inside for about ten to fifteen minutes, so the room was mostly pristine. Nothing seemed out of place. A quick check of the closet revealed two suits and a few pairs of sturdy dress shoes. The older hitman was surprisingly minimalistic when he traveled.

"Kil, I'm in! I'll work on hacking into his email next."

His attention turned back to the computer. Sitting back at the desk, he began searching through files while Cass worked on accessing Zhakarov's emails. He double-clicked on one of the most recent documents.

"Killua, I'm down at the lounge. Zhakarov and Sauveterre are leaning against the bar having some drinks. They don't seem to be talking about anything interesting," came Gon's voice in his ear. "I'm going to try to move in closer. Anything on your end?"

"Not really, just a list of names and places," Killua briefly described the contents of the file as he scrolled through the page, searching for anything that seemed important. Finding nothing of interest, he closed out of it and began searching through other documents.

"You should be able to pull up his email now, Kil," the familiar feminine voice chimed in his ear.

"Thanks, Cass."

Killua opened the email application and sorted the messages by contacts, then scrolled down the list until he came across a message received from Sauveterre a few weeks ago. He began to read through it.

 _'I know what you mean, but Genthru is getting impatient.'_ Some bullshit describing this man's character, nothing terribly important. _'He wishes for us to sow terror among the people, and what better way than by—_ ' Killua's eyes widened as he finished reading the sentence.

Mass execution.

"They can't be fucking serious?!" Killua cursed through gritted teeth as he continued reading through the rest of the email. He thought back on the list with the names and locations: victims and where to find them. Of course... everything was becoming a lot clearer.

Suddenly Gon's alarmed voice rang through his ears. "Killua, get out of there! They're heading back to the room. They just walked into the elevator."

"In a second," came Killua's hushed reply as he fumbled through his pockets. He had to have something, he always did. His fingers wrapped around a small object resting at the bottom of one of his jacket pockets. He shoved the flash drive, which was smaller than a thumbnail, into the USB port with a slight sense of urgency.

Sauveterre and his lot were fucking insane. They'd never get away with this.

"Killua, _please_ tell me you're out." Gon sounded almost desperate.

"Not yet, Gon. I need these files."

Killua worked quickly to save all the documents he thought he needed. A minute later Gon burst through the door panting heavily, his shoulders heaving. He must have dashed all the way up the stairs to get there that fast.

"Killua, we have to go now!"

"I know, almost done."

But they were out of time.

"Don't move, you brats."

 **—**

The two thieves turned quickly at the sound of the low Yorknew accent. Gon drew his pistol immediately as he jumped between Killua and the doorway, hand steady as he aimed. Sauveterre stood at the entrance to the room and he was flanked by Zhakarov and five of their men, all of them holding up their own weapons.

Shit. They were seriously outgunned.

"Step away from the computer," Zhakarov commanded as he moved further into the room. Gon took a step back but Killua didn't move an inch, his stormy gaze still focused on the screen. "I said MOVE, BOY!"

Gon watched carefully as Killua hit a key and then got up slowly from the chair, his right fist clenched tightly. He then moved to stand next to Gon, his hand briefly brushing the small of Gon's back. He felt something slip into his back pocket shortly after. He was curious as to what it was, but now definitely wasn't the time for questions.

"Put your hands up where I can see them," the hitman barked once more, moving to flick on the lights as the two younger men complied. The room was suddenly flooded with warm light, which blinded them momentarily.

There was a sudden flash of recognition across Zhakarov's face as he locked eyes on Killua.

"You. It can't be. You're _dead_." The hitman looked stricken.

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm alive. Though I'm sorry to disappoint," Killua responded with a shrug.

Sauveterre's men moved in to apprehend him and Gon, pulling their arms behind their backs and twisting them into an elbow lock. One of them snatched the pistol from Gon's hand and began searching them for more weapons.

—

"How was the Trick Tower? I hear it's a pleasant experience," Killua continued. His eyes fell on Zhakarov's face, which he last remembered as a bloody mess. "I see you fixed your face. Well, as fixed as _that_ could ever be."

"Fucking brat. Your brother is a worthless son of a bitch," Zhakarov snarled, too enraged to bother giving a proper answer.

"While I don't necessarily disagree with that statement, you got what was coming to you. Fuck, you got off easy with the hunters. Illumi should have killed you," Killua replied icily, eyes narrowed.

A loud 'slap' echoed across the room as Zhakarov struck Killua's face with the back of his hand. The ex-assassin stood quietly, head turned for a couple of seconds before he straightened back out. Though his cheek stung sorely, his shoulders were squared, the ghosts of a smirk on his face.

—

Gon knew Killua's strategy—always appear in control and never show weakness or emotion. It could turn the tide at critical moments. And yet, he couldn't help the anger slowly bubbling up inside him, teetering close to its boiling point. His eyes darkened a shade as he tugged against the men's hold, causing them to grunt and twist his arm painfully. The wince was only momentary as he was soon back to glaring daggers at Zhakarov.

He wanted to crush the man's face under his fist.

The hitman raised his eyebrows as he locked eyes with Gon, the animosity billowing from the young thief in waves—Zhakarov would have had to be extremely thick not to feel it. Instantly, he knew that Gon would be trouble.

"I have no use for that one," Zhakarov finally motioned, gun-metal gray eyes still focused on Gon. "Dispose of him and meet up at the new rendezvous point, quickly."

—

Killua's eyes widened unconsciously.

 _Not Alluka._ Not Gon. Anything but Gon.

"Leave him alone, Zhakarov. He has nothing to do with you!" Killua's attempts at wresting his arm from his captors' hold were defused by Zhakarov shoving his pistol against his temple.

"Don't move, Zoldyck." The hitman's lips curled in wicked satisfaction as he reveled in the pained hiss he drew from Killua.

"Ngh... Killua!" Gon called out over his shoulder as he was dragged out of the room.

Killua's heart sank. He'd fucked up. He hadn't been fast enough.

 _This is all my fault._

He winced as his arm was twisted painfully behind his back. Zhakarov kicked the back of his shins as he led him out of the room.

"Move. You may be of use to me yet."

* * *

"Ahhhhh! They're in trouble," Cass cried out before anxiously biting down on her thumb.

"What the hell was Killua thinking? They're going to get themselves killed!"

"Calm down, Leorio." Kurapika gripped Leorio's shoulders, his touch having its intended soothing effect. "He wouldn't have stuck around if he didn't have a good reason. You know that."

"I do. That doesn't mean I have to like it," Leorio grunted, looking away. He reached back into the back seat of the SUV, grabbing a machine gun and the Paladiknight Special with the shotgun attachment. "I'm not going to just sit here and wait for them to get their dumb asses killed."

"I'm coming with—" Kurapika started.

"No, you stay here. Cass shouldn't stay by herself," Leorio cut him off and nodded towards the girl, who was too busy rambling to herself in a panic about Gon and Killua's safety to think straight. Kurapika opened his mouth to protest but then thought better of it.

"Don't get yourself killed too, dumbass..." He finally mumbled, punching Leorio lightly on the shoulder.

"Of course not! I'm too good-looking to die!" Leorio grinned triumphantly. And with that, he disappeared out the door.

* * *

At first, Gon hadn't questioned the fact that Killua seemed to know so much about Zhakarov. After all, the two of them had been in the same business at one point. Yet the bad blood between them was now obvious—the two visibly hated each other. And Zhakarov was so _cold_. He had a feeling that if the older man had the whim, he wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through Killua's head.

 _Killua._

He was losing his damn mind. He had to go to him, no matter what.

He didn't have time to think up a plan—he just had to _act_.

Lightning-fast, he dropped just enough to lower his center of gravity to the point of stability and quickly lunged forward. All his weight shifted onto his forward leg, throwing the man holding his arms off-balance—he kicked back forcefully, nailing his captor straight in the groin. The man released the arm lock with a cry, falling to his knees as he cupped his family jewels in excruciating pain. A swift side kick to the chest subsequently sent him flying into a row of vending machines just before another of Sauveterre's men tackled Gon to the ground. A third one quickly drew his gun and aimed to kill.

So maybe acting without thinking had been unbelievably stupid. But he was a fool in love and he didn't give a damn.

"Punk," the armed man grunted, his finger moving to squeeze the trigger.

 _"Aghhhh!"_

The man's eyes suddenly shot wide open, a strangled cry forming in the back of his throat as he dropped to the floor in a paralyzed heap.

 _"Spinal column,"_ Gon thought instantly as he noticed the wicked-looking knife that jutted out of the man's upper back.

No. Now was not the time to get distracted—he had an opening.

While the man pinning him down stared at his fallen companion, too shocked to pay him any mind, Gon kicked him off and quickly rolled out of the way. He sprang up to his feet in time to see a man of fair skin and tall stature take hold of the remaining henchman's head and twist it with a gruesome _'snap'_. The new stranger then tossed the now-lifeless body onto the ground, seemingly without remorse. Gon watched him cautiously, his body tense and ready to spring into action should the need arise.

The man retrieved his knife from the henchman's body, wiping the blood clean on the fallen's formerly pristine suit, and tucked it away into his pocket. He then leaned back against a nearby wall, arms folding over his chest as he observed Gon with fascination through half-lidded amber eyes. His features were sharp and well-defined, and his slicked-yet-pointed hair was so red it threatened to go on fuchsia. He would have been extremely good-looking if it weren't for the strange card-suit markings on his cheeks and the disturbing look on his face that made Gon feel incredibly exposed. Gon took a few steps back for good measure—though he'd saved him from getting a bullet to the head, this guy gave him the creeps.

"Well, that's better now, isn't it?" The redhead cooed, an almost too-sweet quality to his voice.

Gon couldn't help the involuntary shudder. "Do I know you?"

The man looked almost gleeful at the remark. "You don't, but I've been fantasizing about changing that all night." His lips twisted into an unnerving grin. "My name is Hisoka. And you are...?"

"You don't need to know that," Gon said sharply as he turned on his heel and began to walk away.

A chuckle. "Oh, so cold. You'll break my heart, my sweet fruit," Hisoka pouted but said lips then stretched into a grin at the outraged look on Gon's face, who at this point simply turned around and stared.

 _What the hell is wrong with this creep?_

"I was watching you down at the club earlier. That boy you were with wasn't the only showstopper tonight." He gave Gon an appreciative once-over, running the flat of his tongue over his bottom lip seductively.

 _Now that he mentions it, he does seem somewhat familiar..._

A sudden flicker of recognition appeared in Gon's eyes, which instantly drew a grin from Hisoka. "So you DO recall seeing me. I'm surprised. Your eyes were glued to that boy with the silver hair. He's a pretty little thing, isn't he?"

At the mention of Killua, Gon's entire body stiffened once more—he had to get going. He couldn't waste any more time talking to creepy red-headed psycho stalkers.

"I'm leaving." He turned again, but this time, Hisoka was on him, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

"What's the hurry? Now that we know each other, and I just got you out of trouble, perhaps you could show some gratitude. I can think of a few ways you could thank me."

Hisoka's smirk widened as he sharply angled Gon's chin upwards until their eyes met—chilling yellow eyes clashing with fierce amber ones. The fire burned in Gon's eyes as he scowled at Hisoka, and the man could instantly tell that Gon was not afraid, that he wasn't about to deal with any bullshit. It was so tempting. So... arousing. "Oh ho. It's so hard to resist when you have eyes like those, my delicious fruit."

The giddiness in Hisoka's voice made Gon's hair stand on end. However, before he could make a move to free himself from the hold, Hisoka released him with a disappointed look on his face. "However, this won't do. I can see in your eyes that your desires lie elsewhere, and that's no fun for me." He turned his back to Gon. "I think those men took your lover boy to the roof. Sauveterre enjoys traveling by helicopter."

Gon grit his teeth. He had to go.

"There's a fire escape leading to the roof in Room 336," Hisoka added casually as he started to walk away. "You know, if you ever get tired of your cute little boyfriend, give me a call." He winked over his shoulder at Gon before disappearing into the stairwell.

Gon's eyes fell to the floor, where a Joker's card lay scribbled with some numbers he could only guess formed Hisoka's phone number. He didn't even bother to pick it up—that guy was a weirdo.

He recovered his pistol—along with a couple of spares—from the fallen men and headed to room 336. He tried the door and found it locked, unsurprisingly. With no key card or micro transmitter, he'd have to do this the hard way. He aimed for the lock, turned his head away, and squeezed the trigger twice. He then kicked underneath the lock with all his might once, twice. By the third time, the door caved in and he busted through. Fueled by adrenaline, he smashed through the window that led to the fire escape as shattered glass flew everywhere. Gripping the iron ladder with trembling fingers, he began the climb up the fire escape like his life depended on it. Like Killua's life depended on it.

 _Killua, I'm coming._

* * *

"You have something of mine, don't you?"

Zhakarov had spent the last twenty minutes attempting to draw something, anything, out of Killua but with very limited success. Despite sporting a bruised cheek, a broken lip, and a cut under his left eye, the young Zoldyck remained mute and expressionless. It was driving the hitman insane.

"Tch. As if I'd want something of yours," Killua finally clicked his tongue, which earned him another strike to his face, this time with the butt of a gun. He simply spit out some blood and turned to glare at Zhakarov defiantly.

"Let's try this again, Zoldyck." The older man's tone was low, threatening. "There are some files missing from my laptop, and I want them back."

"Fuck you."

Zhararov snarled and kicked the back of Killua's shins, forcing him onto his knees. Killua began to pick himself up when he felt the barrel of Zhakarov's gun pressed against his lower back.

It was like a switch flicked _'on'_.

His head suddenly pounded with flashes of gunshots, voices, screams. He fell back down upon his knees, hands trembling violently, pupils dark and dilated. Suddenly he was 7 years old again, kneeled among the snow, holding on to his precious sister for dear life.

 _'Alluka!'_

 _'Big brother!'_

Zhakarov cocked his gun. "I'm not a fan of leaving a job unfinished. I should have shot a bit higher last time." His tone was icy as he traced the gun from Killua's lower back, up and over, until he was aiming for the boy's heart. Killua did not move, every single muscle in his body frozen in shock. A cold grin spread across Zhakarov's face. "I was planning on using you as a bargaining chip against your brother, but maybe I'll just kill you now."

"Oskar, we don't have time for this," Sauveterre chided as he examined his watch.

 **"Killua!"**

Gon's voice, ragged but powerful, snapped Killua out of his shock. The sound directed his gaze to his right, towards the rooftop ledge. His partner stood there, out of breath, gun leveled at the unarmed Sauveterre. Killua could have cried.

 _Gon. Gon is alright!_

 _—_

"Let him go."

Zhakarov scowled and shoved his gun against Killua's back, drawing a wince from him. "No."

"Fine," a low growl rolled off Gon's throat as he pulled out something from his back pocket—Killua's diminutive flash drive from earlier. Whatever was in it must have been important enough for Killua to risk his life over it. He closed his fist around it, giving it the slightest squeeze. It was so small—he could crush its internals and scatter them to the wind without breaking a sweat. "If you don't let go of him, I'll crush it into pieces. I don't give a damn."

Zhakarov's shoulders tensed ever so slightly. "Am I supposed to care about that?" His tone of voice bordered on calm, but the slight higher notes betrayed an element of uncertainty.

"You should care. That disk contains the last remaining copy of your victims' names and locations which, by the looks of your face, I'm assuming you haven't shared with Sauveterre yet. Fucking pity, because I erased all other copies." Killua's smirk drew a horrified look from Zhakarov. The older man's visage contoured into one of twisted fury as he harshly kicked Killua in the back, the boy's body hitting the cold concrete with a pained groan.

 _Killua!_

Gon's eyes were eclipsed by his bottled-up fury, his entire body quivering as he tightened his grip on the flash drive. It would be so easy to destroy it all. He spoke, low and dark and menacing, a tone that Killua had only gotten a sampling of earlier that same day. "I warn you. Hurt him again and I'll pulverize it."

The change in Gon's demeanor when Killua was in danger did not go unnoticed by Sauveterre. "Now boy, let's not be hasty," he said carefully, holding his hands up as he took a cautious step forward.

Another growl formed on the back of Gon's throat. "Don't you fucking move. And tell that bastard to step away from him. Then we'll talk."

Zhakarov's gun immediately swapped targets from Killua to Gon.

"You little—" His fingers moved to squeeze the trigger.

—

 **"Big mistake."**

Azure eyes were narrow, sharp and almost pupil-less.

In one fluid movement, Killua struck the back of Zhakarov's hand just above the wrist—the sickening sound of crunching bones muffled by the hitman's gun clattering to the floor several feet away. He smashed into Zhakarov's jaw, disorienting him, then ducked low and knocked him down with a sweeping kick. He planted his foot on Zhakarov's chest, pinning him down against the concrete. His right hand clenched and unclenched repeatedly as he kept himself from ripping Zhakarov's throat out. Oh, how he wanted to.

Several of Sauveterre's men lunged at Killua, but Gon picked them off one by one, head-shot after head-shot. Gone was the compassionate man from the night before. Instead, Gon was livid, focused. Only one thing was on his mind: protect Killua above everything, now that he could.

A sudden, strong gust of wind threw them both off balance, even causing Killua to take a step back. Killua's silver hair whipped around, eyes looking up to the sky in time to see a small black helicopter—no doubt belonging to Sauveterre—fly low to the rooftop. The aft-most cabin door slid open to reveal a mounted machine gun.

"Watch out!"

With no other warning, Gon tackled Killua down to the ground, pushing them both out of the way of gunfire just in the nick of time. Their bodies hit the concrete with a thud, Gon curled protectively over his partner. Killua seemed disoriented, his eyes now wide and clear blue. The adrenaline from his attack on Zhakarov—from his _'assassin mode'_ —was dying out into a numbing feeling, and Gon picked up on it quickly.

"Go, go, go!" He dragged Killua up to his feet, and the two then broke into a sprint towards the rooftop door, dodging bullets the entire time. One of them grazed Killua's shoulder but he simply grit his teeth and kept running.

"I'M HERE TO FUCK SHIT UP, MOTHERFUCKERS!" Leorio suddenly burst through the door, screaming bloody murder and letting loose on machine gun fire like the trigger-happy asshole that he was. However, he took one look at the helicopter flying right at them and almost dropped his gun. "HOLY SHIT!" He slung the Paladiknight Special over and took aim, rapid-firing several shells in the cockpit's direction, forcing the helicopter to swerve away. When Gon and Killua were safely inside he launched another volley with the machine gun before slamming the door behind him, just in time to avoid becoming swiss cheese.

Gon supported Killua's bruised body as the three of them ran all the way down the stairs and through the club. Leorio lead the pack, shoving screaming people out of the way as the remainder of Zhakarov's men, those who had stayed behind at the bar, began firing at them. The trio finally burst through the entrance to the street, where Kurapika waited with the Touareg. The two younger men dove into the back seat next to Cass just as Leorio jumped into the driver's seat and floored it. The last thing that Killua remembered was seeing Gon's concerned face before his world went black.

* * *

"Man, that asshole certainly did a number on your face. It's a miracle your cheekbone isn't fractured. Shit," Leorio grumbled as he worked on dressing Killua's wounds. Gon sat quietly in the corner, his hands folded neatly in front of him as he watched.

"I'm fine..." The ex-assassin muttered, wincing only slightly as the antiseptic stung against his face.

They were back at the suite, where Leorio had spent the better part of the last hour patching up the two of them. Gon had made it out fairly unscathed, except for a few bruises and light cuts. His wound from the day before had also needed re-dressing, but in all he was fine. Killua was a different matter. His bruised cheek was already looking bluish, and it had taken a healthy amount of ice to keep his left eye from swelling. After verifying there was no bullet lodged in the flesh, Leorio finished bandaging Killua's shoulder and packed up all of his supplies into his briefcase.

"Just take it easy for the next few days. Try not to sleep on that side of your face. I'll do another check-up in the morning," he said with a yawn, though the relief was evident in his voice—he was just glad the three of them had made it out alive. With a 'goodnight', he left the living room and headed to Gon's room which he, Kurapika, and Cass would be sharing for the night.

Silence followed Leorio's departure as Killua simply sat there. His gaze seemed focused on the grandfather clock, as if he were following the rhythmically ticking hands, but in reality, he was just staring off into space. When he made no move to get up from the couch, Gon left the armchair and joined him.

There were questions running through Gon's head, questions about Killua and Zhakarov, questions about the terror-stricken expression he'd seen on Killua's face right as he'd made it to the rooftop. He had never seen raw fear in the ex-assassin's eyes before, and he never wanted to see such an expression on him ever again. But he knew right now was not the time for any of those questions.

The two remained sitting next to each other in silence, shoulders barely inches apart, for an indefinite amount of time—Gon didn't bother keeping track. Then suddenly Killua let his head drop onto Gon's shoulder. The raven-haired thief simply glanced at him, not prodding but simply waiting for his partner to say something.

When Killua finally spoke up, it wasn't really what Gon had been expecting.

"Please, don't leave me. I don't want to be alone right now."

Gon's eyes softened to the color of honey, his words earnest. "Even if you asked me to, I wouldn't."

To his shock, he felt something warm fall onto his hand, then another—tears. Killua's shoulders convulsed as he struggled to hold back the sobs.

That's when Gon knew that Killua was finally giving in. The strong facade he had flawlessly worn in front of their friends, that he had attempted to hold up in front of Gon, was crumbling to pieces. This was Killua saying 'I'm weak and vulnerable, and I don't mind if you see me like this.' and it meant so much to Gon. Between them two, this was the sign of ultimate trust.

Gon immediately drew his arms around Killua's leaner frame, pulling him towards his own body. Using one of the cushions as a pillow, he laid back on the couch and brought the ex-assassin down with him. Though he would have normally spoken up in embarrassed protest, no words of complaint left Killua's lips as he curled up against his partner. Gon ran his hands soothingly over Killua's back until the sobs died down, until the ex-assassin's chest rose and fell steadily in his sleep. And even then, he remained still as to not wake him. With a pained look, he glanced straight ahead, his gaze losing itself in the city skyline visible through the window.

This job had taken a turn for the worst.

They'd succeeded, but at what cost?

* * *

 _If we don't bend then this might break. Please don't give into this pain._

 _Just keep on counting down the days, and dream of me to keep you safe._

* * *

You and I - Pvris

Only Love - Pvris


	6. Frustration

_The arms of relief seem so out of reach, but I am here. I am with you._

 _I will carry you through it all._ _I won't leave you._

 _I will catch you_ _when you feel like letting go, 'cause you're not alone._

* * *

Kurapika had always been the earliest riser out of all of them.

Despite Leorio's loud snores and Cass's sleep-talking, it was the first few morning rays that ultimately roused him from his brief slumber. He slipped out of the king-sized bed, careful not to wake up the two sleeping bodies that shared it with him. An involuntary yawn escaped him as he stretched out his back, his muscles practically groaning under tension. Even if he hadn't been physically involved, stressing over his friends' reckless actions had still taken a toll on him.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sight that greeted him on his way to the kitchen,

Gon lay resting on his side against the back of the couch, head propped on his elbow as if he'd fallen asleep without meaning to. His free arm was loosely draped over Killua's waist. The ex-assassin was also on his side, curled up against Gon as he slept soundly.

 _These two..._

With a smile, Kurapika turned around and headed back to Gon's room, careful not to make a sound.

—

The hushed whispers accompanied by the sound of the front door shutting were enough to stir Gon from his slumber. Bright sunlight streamed into the room, bathing him in a pleasant warmth that further fueled his grogginess. He slowly blinked to adjust his eyes to the lighting.

 _What time is it?_

The familiar ticking of the grandfather clock drew his attention. It was now early afternoon—he'd definitely slept for longer than he'd meant to. A soft, sleepy sigh diverted his gaze down to the figure curled up beside him.

 _Killua._

Killua's lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and falling evenly as he slept. His disheveled bangs fell across his face but failed to hide the purple bruise on his cheek. Biting back a muted curse, Gon looked away—he didn't want to think of the rest of Killua's injuries. It was a reminder that his best the night before hadn't been enough.

 _I'm sorry..._

He tenderly brushed silver strands out of Killua's face. He wouldn't stand for a repeat of the prior night's events. Call him over-protective, but he cared too much about Killua to let him get hurt like this again.

 _If something more were to happen to you..._

He wouldn't know what to do with himself.

Despite everything, Killua's features were soft and peaceful in slumber and that was enough to make Gon smile. It was such a rare occasion—a treat. Killua was so strong and well-put together, always guarded and on edge. For Gon to be able to see him defenses-down, to be able to care for him like this...

He almost felt guilty. He couldn't deny that circumstances set aside, he was actually relishing the moment. And still, he wanted _more_.

When Killua had finally broken down in front of him the night before, he had been so grateful. Seeing Killua so defeated was like a stab in the heart, but still, his partner's actions were a step in the direction Gon most desired. He _longed_ for Killua to open up more to him and trust him with his problems.

Killua might not have wanted Gon to worry, but asking that of him was almost ridiculous.

 _Of course, I'm going to worry, you idiot because you mean everything to me._

The shift in Killua's body was subtle, but Gon sensed it in an instant.

Tensing, coiling muscles betrayed Killua's state as he transitioned from relaxed to fully alert in mere seconds. Gon was certain that Killua would have sprung up from the couch had he not wound his arms more tightly around him.

"Shh. It's just me, Killua. It's okay," Gon breathed, cradling his startled partner against his chest. "Settle down. You're going to hurt yourself more."

—

Killua's eyes fluttered open to reveal muted blue irises. His shoulders slacked at the sound of Gon's voice. "Ngh..."

He was suddenly flooded by pain—a dull, persistent pain. His face, his back, his _shoulder_.

"Gon. Can I—"

"Of course." Gon's hold on him loosened.

Killua groaned as he sat up, his whole body aching in protest. Goosebumps immediately spread across his skin, and he found himself shivering—though they'd been apart for merely seconds, his body already craved the warmth and comfort of sleep and _Gon_.

 _Gon._

Like a curse, his mind jumped straight to the night before, to that _kiss_ — literally the last thing he needed to think about at this very moment.

 _Fuck..._

His face twisted into a grimace. He didn't want to think about it—how _good_ it felt to be pressed against Gon, Gon's hands on him, in his hair, hot breaths mingling as their mouths meshed together...

 _'Stop it. That kiss can't... it didn't mean anything,'_ the words looped around in his head like a mantra. _'It was a mistake.'_

It was almost like he was trying to convince himself.

 _That kiss was nothing but a last resort and Gon only returned it because we were out of options._

Never mind Gon's face, flushed and _beautiful_ as he'd whispered Killua's name like it was a secret shared between just the two of them.

Never mind Gon's eyes, molten gold and half-mast as he'd stared at Killua like he'd never wanted anything _—or anyone—_ more in his life.

Never mind Gon's hand, reaching out to touch Killua's face—a touch that Killua was still craving, and painfully so.

 _No!_

It didn't matter. None of it mattered.

They _couldn't_ fall for each other.

Killua groaned as he slipped both hands into his hair, slender fingers rubbing soothing circles into his own scalp. He had to push away all those thoughts so he could focus on recalling the rest of the night's events. The memories came scattered at first: Zhakarov's room and all the e-mails and information stored in the computer. Sauveterre capturing them and Zhakarov ordering his men to kill Gon. The rooftop—Zhakarov beating him, trying to _kill_ him, trying to kill _Gon_. _Leorio_ , of all people, saving their asses.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out suddenly. In hindsight, he'd been such a reckless piece of shit.

Gon's eyebrows shot upward. "For what?"

"Last night. Everything." Killua hid his face in his hands. "I fucked up and almost got you killed. And then you got stuck having to save my sorry ass."

—

Gon lightly touched Killua's shoulder. "You did what you had to do, Killua."

He meant that. If it hadn't been for Killua's crazy hunch, who knows if they would've found all the information they hadn't even known they'd needed in the first place?

"Besides," he added, "you saved me too. Zhakarov would have shot me if you hadn't taken him down."

"You shouldn't have needed saving," Killua sighed, the bitterness palpable in his tone.

"We're partners, Killua. That's what we do."

Deep down, Killua knew Gon was right. They _were_ partners, and they constantly pulled shit like this all the time. Injuries and death were really just major occupational hazards when it all came down to it. However when it came to Gon, Killua was _not_ okay with it. Gon was the most important person in his life, the anchor for his sanity, at least what was left of it. Killua had put him in danger unnecessarily and for that, he couldn't easily forgive himself.

"I've been a shitty partner. You deserve bett—"

"Stop it," Gon silenced Killua with a grip of the shoulders and forced him to look up at him. "You're not a shitty partner, Killua. You're the best fucking partner I could ask for."

His words were sharp but sincere as Killua gaped at him in surprise, speechless.

"You're the only partner for me, you got that?" Gon's serious gaze softened finally, brimming with obvious affection. "It has to be you, Killua. I don't want anybody else."

—

Killua suddenly couldn't breathe, wide blue eyes staring straight into amber in shock. He knew Gon didn't actually mean... But the choice of words, the sincerity held in them, Gon's face—it was all just too much.

"D-don't say stuff like that," Killua yanked his shoulders back, hands covering his heated face.

 _Yes, please don't say that. And please don't look at me that way. I can't—it only makes things more difficult..._

Gon simpered as he teasingly nudged Killua's shoulder. "Then stop saying stupid things."

"Right, that's _your_ job," Killua's retort was half-hearted, but it was still a tease.

—

With satisfaction, Gon noted the slight upward curve hiding in the corner of Killua's lips.

"You know it," he grinned before rising to his feet. He still had questions, but he wasn't completely tactless. He could wait until a more appropriate time.

Gon came to a stop by the wide penthouse windows, his arms folded over the windowsill as he took in the panoramic view of the bustling city down below. Sebokeng was indeed a beautiful city. A vibrant city. A _dangerous_ city. He had a feeling that they'd overstayed their welcome. He glanced over his shoulder, noting how Killua's midnight eyes followed his form. "You know, I'm tired of Sebokeng. Let's go home."

* * *

The room was silent except for the furious clashing of fingertips against a keyboard.

Something was off. There couldn't be such a gap in his information network—it just wasn't possible. Yet in spite of all his attempts, Zhakarov couldn't find any dirt on Zoldyck's partner. It was as if the dark boy with the amber eyes—the dangerous boy that had looked ready to kill him without a second thought—didn't really exist.

All he'd been able to find out was his name: Gon Freecss.

Every potential source of information he'd tried accessing so far had been encrypted. Who the hell was this little shit, and why did he merit such protection? He slammed his right fist down onto the desk and immediately saw stars.

"Fucking Zoldyck! Damn it all to hell!" he howled in pain. Of course, he'd forgotten about his fucking broken wrist.

"Well you sound pleased," came a voice from behind him that he recognized all too well. The sardonic tone did nothing to appease his fury.

"Fuck off, Lech," Zhakarov snapped, clearly pissed. His steel-gray eyes warned the other man to tread carefully.

Sauveterre, ever the picture of composure, merely chuckled. "You're a fucking ray of sunshine. I will have one of the maids bring you coffee."

Zhakarov responded with a grunt as he nursed his now-limp wrist. Unlike what he'd come to expect from most of his clients, Sauveterre was eerily composed despite their current situation.

"How are you so calm? They have the list. And I'll go ahead and assume that they also have the SD cards that were stolen two days ago." Of course, that would make sense. "Genthru's plans are all but ruined."

"Hn. Not completely."

Zhakarov knitted his eyebrows together. "Oh?"

"The more essential plan information on those cards will most likely evade them for at least several more days. The encryption we used is top-notch. Even those clowns over at the Association would have a hard time cracking it. I paid good money to assure that much, at least."

Zhakarov shot him a disbelieving look. "You suspected they'd be stolen?"

"Not necessarily by a pair of teenagers, but yes. Genthru asked for the encryption, and I found his request reasonable. We both have many enemies, Oskar. In this business, one can never be too careful."

"I see," Zhakarov replied tentatively. So there was still a chance. "And I suppose you have a plan?"

"Of course," Sauveterre nodded as he turned to look over his shoulder. "Caterina, please bring Mr. Zhakarov a pot of your finest Yorbian coffee."

The young maid standing at the doorway bobbed a curtsy, her smile never leaving her face. "Right away, Mr. Sauveterre."

Sauveterre dismissed her before turning to Zhakarov. "Give her a few minutes—her coffee will light up your miserable life. But in the meantime, I would like to discuss something with you. I believe it's worth your attention."

* * *

"But, Tsubone—"

"No buts, Killua. Now sit down and rest before I knock you out," the old woman boomed as she towered over Killua. "Amane, bring him some tea."

"Yes, grandmother." A willowy girl with dark hair and a flat nose bowed and left the weight room, presumably to fetch the drink.

"I don't even like tea," Killua huffed as he dejectedly dropped himself down onto a nearby chair.

Tsubone, his oldest and most experienced butler, was just as intimidating as she was caring. He knew she didn't make any empty threats—so his argument was mostly a moot point—but he was absolutely restless. It had been _days_ since the incident at Indigo, and his wounds were healing up nicely. He still got sore if he bent or twisted at just the wrong angle but, in his opinion, it was still no reason for him to sit around quietly like a good little boy.

Fuck it, Killua Zoldyck would not be tamed!

As he was opening his mouth to let Tsubone know just that, he noticed Gon out of the corner of his eye. His partner was standing a few feet away, idly rubbing the back of his head as if debating on whether or not he should come to the rescue. Killua shrugged and waved him off—this wasn't really a battle he wanted to drag Gon into.

Gon pursed his lips into that adorable pout of his. He glanced back and forth between Killua and Tsubone one last time before turning on his heel and heading towards the workout equipment. Killua held back a smirk—even the stubborn and fearless Gon Freecss knew not to mess with his crazy old butler.

Said stubborn Freecss kicked on the stereo and proceeded to roll into his stretching routine. Killua found himself nodding in approval as the first few chords of Fall Out Boy's 'Light 'Em Up' flooded the room.

By the time Amane had presented Killua with a steaming cup of valerian tea and Tsubone had taken her leave, Gon was done stretching. Killua finished drowning his tea in sugar cubes and then turned his attention to Gon. His partner had shrugged off his plain t-shirt and was making his way over to the salmon ladder. Unconsciously, Killua straightened in his chair.

 _I just gotta get you off the cage. I'm a young lover's rage, gonna need a spark to ignite. My songs know what you did in the dark._

Sun-kissed skin and solid muscle—that was an accurate description for Gon's body, which was the product of both rigorous physical training and rugged island upbringing. His build pronounced his strength obviously, something that the deceptively lithe Killua had always secretly envied. It was pretty obvious as to why Gon had barely fit in Killua's clothes a few days before.

 _So light 'em up up up, light 'em up up up, light 'em up . I'm on fire._

Gon dangled half a foot from the ground, fingers tightly wrapped around the metal bar. He shifted to adjust his hold, and Killua just _stared_. The rippling muscles of Gon's back moved under richly tanned skin as he did a few pull ups to test his grip.

 _Fuck... did somebody crank up the heat in here? Or—_

 _'Clang'_

Killua was brought back to reason by the metal clang that signified Gon swinging from one rung to the next. He suddenly became keenly aware of the pounding of his pulse, the uncomfortable dryness of his mouth—he'd just been ogling his best friend. He quickly forced himself to look away, burning from his neck all the way to the tip of his ears.

 _Just focus on something, ANYTHING else..._

In an attempt to distract himself Killua began thumbing through the first thing he could reach, a dog-eared copy of _Robinson Crusoe._ He had no idea how the book had gotten down to the weight room, but at the moment he couldn't be more grateful. He skimmed through a few pages until he could no longer hear the rhythmic clang blending with the music. Curiosity got the best of him and he looked up again.

 _You've GOT to be fucking kidding me..._

Gon had already made it all the way to the top. He now hung upside down, the metal bar tucked under his knees as he did crunches. Killua swallowed thickly as his eyes drifted to Gon's stomach and his pronounced abdominal muscles, which visibly contracted and released with each of Gon's careful movements.

"Yo."

It's not like it was his first time seeing Gon shirtless. But the fact remained that Gon had abs for _days_ and that's all Killua could focus on right now.

"Killua?"

He just wanted to—

"Earth to Killua? Jeezus fucking Christ!"

"Wha?!" Killua almost fell off his chair, an unforgiving blush sweeping across his face. Leorio was sitting right across from him and—from the looks of it—had been for quite a while now. "Um. I didn't see you there."

"No shit." The smirk on Leorio's face unnerved him. The guy looked like he knew something he shouldn't.

"...whatever," Killua shrugged lamely as he adjusted himself in his chair. He made a move towards his tea but quickly withdrew his hand once he remembered that it was over-sugared and probably lukewarm and that he was supposed to hate it anyway.

"Your face is looking better," came Leorio's observation as he nodded in approval. The bruise on Killua's cheek was now a greenish-yellow color and mostly faded. The rest of his facial wounds were completely healed, with the exception of a light scab still present under his eye.

"Hn," was Killua's only response as he resumed fake-reading _Robinson Crusoe_ , hoping Leorio would take a hint and buzz off.

With a click of his tongue, Leorio ignored him and pressed on. "Having a good day so far?"

Killua dropped his book just as quickly as he had picked it up. "Is this going anywhere?"

"Nah. I just couldn't help but notice how you were staring at Gon like he was some sort of Greek god," Leorio grinned.

"No idea what you're talking about," the ex-assassin said flatly.

"Don't try and act dumb, Killua," the older man narrowed his eyes. "It's fucking obvious. You do nothing but stare at him lately."

Shit. Did he, really?

"For the sake of your health, I hope you're not suggesting anything." The glare that followed would have deterred most reasonable men and killed the subject immediately. Unfortunately, Leorio Paladiknight wasn't exactly a prime example of 'reasonable'.

"And what if I am?" Leorio's unwavering stare focused on the ex-assassin. "Fuck, Killua. Anyone could see it."

"Whatever you're implying, you're wrong."

"I'm not. You care about Gon and we both know it."

"Of course, I care about him. Gon is my best friend and my _partner_."

"Bull-fucking-shit. Friends, partners, don't _look_ at each other the way you two do, much less _kiss_ the way you two did a few days ago," Leorio pointed an accusing finger and suddenly all of the blood drained from Killua's face.

 _Oh NO he didn't!_

"We did it because we _had to_. It didn't mean anything," Killua visibly bristled.

"Really, Killua? Really? Because it certainly didn't look that way."

Killua's fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and his nails drew crescent moons in the palms of his hands. He'd been trying so hard— _so hard_ —to push thoughts of that god-forsaken kiss to the back of his mind for days now. And it sucked, and it was miserable, and the last thing he needed was this. Leorio had no fucking clue how much of a toll it all took on him.

"If you only fucking knew—" he froze. He hadn't meant to say those words out loud, but now Leorio's eyebrows were shooting upward and he was just done.

"Knew what?"

"Nothing. This conversation is over." Killua abruptly stood up.

A few dozen feet away Gon dropped gracefully to the floor, falling to one knee to absorb the impact. He seemed oblivious to his friends' conversation, singing along to Linkin Park's 'When They Come For Me' as he grabbed a towel from a nearby rack and ran it over his dripping face and chest. When he finally noticed Leorio, he waved at him with a grin.

Leorio waved back and then rose to his feet. His dark eyes focused on Killua, who was now leaning against the window and glaring up a storm. The conversation between them was far from being over, but he valued life and limb too much to press the ex-assassin for more. Without further comment he made his exit, accidentally bumping shoulders with the head butler in the process.

"My apologies, Master Leorio," Gotoh bowed lightly. Leorio uttered his own apologies and then continued down the hall, mumbling something about Killua being a stubborn ass. Gotoh shook his head and walked over to his master, who looked distressed as he cradled his head in his hands.

"Master Killua, do you have a minute?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, Gotoh," Killua's voice was strained as he rubbed his temples. He hated this. He hated everything.

"Very well, sir. I have a message from your client, Mr. Rayno."

Killua looked up, suddenly interested. "What is it?"

"He would like to meet up with you and Master Gon in Zaban City tomorrow afternoon. He says it's of utmost importance."

* * *

Not Alone - Red

My Songs Know What You Did in The Dark - Fall Out Boy


	7. Trust

_All alone as you look through the door, nothing left to see. If it hurts and you can't take no more, lay it all on me._

 _Let my love in, let my love in, lay your heart on me. If you're hurting, if you're hurting, lay it all on me._

* * *

The train ride into Zaban City was mostly uneventful. Though the countryside was indeed beautiful, with verdant rolling hills and plentiful vineyards world-renown for their exquisite wines, it was only enough to draw the two young men's interest for about a quarter of an hour. After a quick cart lunch that did nothing to sate the bottomless pit that was Gon Freecss, Killua produced a pack of playing cards to help pass the time.

"Kiiiiilluuuuaaaaa! You cheater!"

"And how exactly am I a cheater?"

"I saw the card up your sleeve, you jerk!"

"What, like this one?"

Killua smirked as he smoothly pulled the Ace of Clubs from the sleeve of Gon's jacket. The two then broke out into a fierce glaring contest that lasted all of thirty seconds before it dissolved into laughter as they both gave up on the game. They always tried to cheat each other whenever they played cards, so there was really no point anyway.

As Killua pulled back with a stretch, Gon's eyes focused on him.

It was obvious to Gon that the object of his affections was feeling much more at ease than he'd been since the Sebokeng incident. Killua flashed that smile—the one that reached his eyes and pronounced his dimples and fluttered butterflies inside Gon's stomach, and Gon couldn't help but smile himself.

All he really wanted was for Killua to be happy.

* * *

"Good afternoon. Do you have a reservation?"

They were greeted by the hostess, a woman with luxuriant black hair and exotic violet eyes. She pursed her lips as she gave the two of them an appraising look.

"Rayno, 3pm reservation," Killua said as he slid his hands into his pockets. The look hadn't bothered him in the slightest—he was used to people judging the two of them whenever they booked high-end hotels or restaurants. He took great pleasure in paying for everything in cash just to watch the jaws drop.

"Very well," the woman confirmed as she flipped through her documents, "now if you would follow me..."

She began leading them down a hallway that Killua assumed lead to the reserved rooms.

"This place is snazzy," Gon remarked to no one in particular as he looked around, and Killua had to agree. The establishment was very elegant—all geometric motifs, bold crimson tapestries, and dangling chandeliers. In his plain ripped (not by design) jeans, jacket, and sneakers, Gon must have felt out of place. Killua himself was only slightly more dressed up, which was probably a comfort at least.

"Your room, gentlemen." There was an odd quality to the woman's smile that Killua couldn't place as she motioned to the door at the very end of the hall. "The rest of your party is already here. Please enjoy your time."

Gon thanked the hostess and helped himself into the room. Killua was about to follow suit but paused—he could feel eyes on him.

He whipped around to look but there was no one there save for the hostess. The woman seemed to scrutinize him through wine-colored eyes.

 _What's your deal?_

They both stood in uncomfortable silence, Killua's face scrunching up in annoyance until the hostess turned around and returned to her desk.

"Tch..." he muttered suspiciously. The woman didn't seem threatening, though, so it was most likely nothing. With a shrug he continued into the room... and jeezus fuck, he ran straight into a wall of reinforced steel—oh wait, it was just Gon's back.

"Ngh. What gives?" Killua moaned as he playfully shoulder-checked his partner, who immediately held out an arm to stop him from moving further. "Gon?"

"Freecss, Zoldyck. So nice of you to come."

There were two men sitting around a wooden, glass-topped table strewn with appetizers and drinks. As far as Killua was concerned, neither of them was Lavi Rayno.

Critical midnight eyes instinctively fell on the larger of the two. Despite being older, the man was tall and well-built. His features were marked—shoulder-length white hair framed a broad face accentuated by a strong square chin and a crooked nose. He wore sunglasses even though they were indoors, and casually twirled a smoking pipe in one hand. Though it was obvious that he had dressed up for the occasion—slacks, button-down shirt and tie—he looked ready to rumble with his loose tie and sleeves rolled up as far as his hefty biceps would allow.

Sitting beside the man that Killua had officially dubbed 'battle gramps' was a willowy man who looked at least ten years younger. Short well-kept black hair and rimless glasses gave him a sophisticated air. Unlike his companion, who now wore an easy smile, he sported an impeccable black suit and a bored expression as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

They both looked dangerous as hell.

It took all of Killua's self-control to appear collected, though his sense of self-preservation was screaming its desire for him to go on the defensive.

"Who are you?" Gon instinctively angled himself between Killua and the two men in a gesture that could only be interpreted as protective.

 _And how do you know us?_

'Battle gramps' was the first to speak up. "My name is Morel Mackernasey, and this is my comrade Knov Stroman. We're with the Hunter Association—"

"—and we were just leaving," Killua quickly cut him off as he turned around and started guiding Gon towards the door.

Hunters. Killua wasn't fully sure about Gon, but he had a bounty on his own head the size of Kukuroo Mountain and he didn't want to stick around to find out how eager these two were in collecting it.

To his horror, the door was locked from the outside. His thoughts immediately jumped to the woman with the violet eyes—had she done it?

"Leaving so soon?" The man called Knov motioned to the two empty chairs at the table. "Why don't you take a seat instead, have some wine? I recommend the hor d'oeuvres—they're excellent."

"Just cut to the chase," Killua snapped, not in the mood for their games. "What do you want?"

Morel nodded at Knov and spoke up as he packed a small batch of tobacco into his pipe. "You're familiar with the name Lavi Rayno."

The words were more of a statement than an actual question. Killua wanted to shake his head 'no'—in this business, confidentiality was paramount. However, he had a feeling that lying to the two hunters would be pointless. Thankfully, he and Gon were on the same page as usual.

"We are. What of it?" Gon said evenly, ochre eyes following Morel's actions with slight fascination. The older man struck a match and lit the tobacco, then leaned back as he took a long drag.

"As you've probably already figured out, the name was just an alias. We used it to request you both to retrieve information on Lech Sauveterre, meaning," a much-amused smile spread across Morel's lips, "that you two technically work for us."

Gon and Killua exchanged _'oh shit'_ glances.

"Now before you try to turn tail and run, as you two are so adept at doing, let me explain," Knov jumped in. "The Association is extremely careful about their moves, and who they choose to pursue."

His cool gray eyes lingered on Killua, who responded with a glare. Unfazed, Knov continued. "For example, a regular gambling addict like Sauveterre isn't worth very much to us. However, rumors started circulating that he had developed deeper, darker ties."

"Zhakarov..." Gon muttered.

Killua's eyes narrowed as he recalled the other name in Sauveterre's emails. "...and Genthru."

"Exactly," Morel nodded in assent. "Zhakarov, elite hitman—" Killua scoffed at the word _'elite'_. "—wanted for numerous counts of murder, extortion, and as you are now aware of, prison break. And Genthru the Bomber, clinical psychopath wanted for mass murder and attempts at terrorism."

"Seems ambitious, going after both of them. Even for the Association," Gon sighed as he finally took a seat, eyeing the fried calamari with interest.

Though still on edge, Killua allowed himself to sit down as well—closest to Gon and the door—and even helped himself to a glass of red wine. By now it was obvious that they weren't going to be able to leave anytime soon.

"It is," Morel couldn't deny it. "When this all started, we suspected only Zhakarov. We had no clue Genthru was involved until you two figured that out for us."

"Which is why, we'd like your help." Knov leaned back in his chair, legs crossed.

The two thieves sat in surprised silence for a few minutes until Killua finally spoke up, his tone self-deprecating. "Using petty thieves to do your bidding? Man, the Association must _really_ be desperate."

"We all know you two are more than just petty thieves. Freecss," Morel turned to Gon, grinning in a way that betrayed just how much he truly knew about him, "you have quite a reputation. Smuggling, theft, arson... the apple fell far from the tree."

Before Gon could refute, Knov's calculating eyes zeroed in on Killua.

"And you, Zoldyck, your name speaks for itself. You're a professional assassin—"

"Ex-assassin," Killua corrected sharply, stormy eyes brimming with animosity.

"—with experience and skills matched only by the elites. You're famous in the underworld," Knov continued, "Not to mention, there is history between you and Zhakarov."

Killua's slender fingers tightened around the stem of his wine glass. He quickly set it down before it shattered into a million pieces.

"As of three days ago, there is an underground bounty of several million jenny on your head, Zoldyck—wanted alive or preferably dead. You clearly have his attention. However, this makes things easier for us. The Association can focus on flushing out Genthru if we can use you to get to Zhakarov."

There was a gleam in Knov's eyes that Gon didn't miss.

 _No. Just, no._

He slammed his fist down on the table as he jumped to his feet, all the glasses and plates rattling unsteadily in his wake. "You are NOT using Killua as bait." There it was again—the tense jaw, the seriousness. The menace in his eyes, the darkness that to Killua seemed so unfamiliar. "I won't let you."

"Gon..." Killua's heart pounded fiercely within his chest. He bit his lip and quickly turned away, fearful that his emotions would display clear as day.

Morel watched the two with interest. He tapped his pipe against the side of a cup calmly. "I understand your concerns for your partner, Freecss. But the Association can guarantee Zoldyck's safety—"

"But you can't," Gon cut him off. "The vindictive look in that crazy bastard's eyes says it all. He wants Killua dead and he'll stop at nothing." His fists clenched and released in his attempts to control his silent fury.

Morel. Knov. The Hunter Association. Clearly, they knew _nothing_.

"We will develop a plan," Knov offered.

"Forget it," Gon snapped. His eyes burned like fire as he glowered at the two men, before turning his head towards the door. "We're leaving."

Gon moved to make his exit, and Killua stood up to follow. Neither of the two hunters made a move to stop them—Gon's modus operandi was clear.

"We'll let you mull it over," Knov said finally. "Keep in mind that you have plenty of incentive. Our initial offer of fifty billion jenny still stands, along with a promise that the Association will _never_ come hunting for you. However, if you are to decline—" He narrowed his eyes. "—you will find that our response will be most undesirable."

"As a reminder, Zoldyck is on the Most Wanted list for four different continents," Morel added. "It'd be a shame if we decided to capture him. One-hundred and ninety-eight years in prison isn't exactly appealing."

"You'd have to catch me first," Killua countered, venom dripping with every word.

"Do not underestimate the skill and range of hunters with stars, Zoldyck," Knov returned the scowl.

"You don't scare me."

The sound of splintering wood alerted them all to Gon taking care of their 'locked door' problem.

Gon glanced over his shoulder, ochre eyes dark as he licked some blood off his bleeding knuckles. "We'll finish decoding those SD cards that we owe _'Mr. Rayno'_ , as required by our original agreement. But after that, we're done."

* * *

The walk back to the train station was quiet.

After imprinting his fist on a street sign several times, Gon eventually cooled off. His shoulders were now slack, his eyes a soft shade of butterscotch. Killua lingered behind him, gaze focused on the ground. Without a second thought, Gon fell back to match his partner's stride.

Killua hadn't said anything since they'd stormed out of the restaurant. He seemed lost in a daze, just like that day back in Sebokeng. Gon be damned if he was going to allow a repeat of that day. Not now.

A roguish smile on his lips, he gently bumped shoulders with Killua, knocking the ex-assassin off his stride.

 _Just smile for me._

Midnight blues widened for just a fraction before Killua returned the bump with a small smile of his own. Soon the two were tripping over each other in laughter as they proceeded to try and throw each other off balance.

"Thank you," Killua finally gasped in between laughs, cheeks flushed. His smile reached his eyes and effectively banished all of Gon's coherent thoughts to oblivion.

 _You are so, so beautiful._

Gon shoved his hands in his pockets as he moved in closer, his shoulders lightly brushing against Killua's. "Hmm, for what?"

"Just... for being you."

Feeling his cheeks grow warm, Gon turned his gaze skyward, feigning indifference. "You know... just doing my job."

There was no need for words after that—each other's company was enough. Soon it was as if the earlier encounter hadn't happened, and everything was back to the way it usually was. And as always, when Killua wasn't looking, Gon smiled—honestly and affectionately and in a way that was reserved only his most favorite person in the entire world.

 _That's much better._

* * *

"I was only seven when this mess all started."

Gon was leaning against the window, gaze lost among the flurry of bright yellows and lush greens as the train chugged along the countryside, when the hushed sound of Killua's voice drew his attention.

"Killua?" He turned to face his partner, his eyes quickly drawn to the trembling of Killua's clenched fists. He took his partner's hands in his—Killua flinched just slightly before relaxing—his thumb brushing light, soothing circles along the pale skin. "You don't have to force yourself to tell me."

He wanted to know. He was _dying_ to know. But not if it was going to hurt Killua.

—

"I want to," Killua said decisively.

He'd finally decided that he _had_ to. The memory was like an old band-aid, still barely clinging on, tugging at his skin every time anything brushed close. He had to rip it off for the wound to get better. Sure, it was going to hurt like hell. But telling someone—no, telling Gon—was important to him and he had to get it over with.

"If you're sure," Gon finally acquiesced.

Killua nodded. "Let me tell you about Alluka."

Gon replied with a nod, urging him to keep on going.

"Alluka was my younger sister, and the only person that's ever truly loved me in my life," he sighed wistfully, and Gon's eyes widened a fraction.

Killua spoke with obvious affection as he recalled the girl with the dark hair and clear blue eyes, not unlike his own, a girl that shone so brightly she could light up the entire world with a smile.

 _'Big brother, I love you!'_

The thought came like a stab in the chest, but Killua steeled himself and kept on going. He explained Alluka's disabilities—how from a young age she had been frail and sickly, suffering from dissociative identity disorder—and how his entire family to this day pretended like she had never existed.

"Despite it all, she was so sweet and kind and _good_. Her childish simplicity somehow brought out compassion in me. She was the one thing that helped me hold on to my sanity, my _humanity_ , even as I was raised to become an assassin." Killua refused to glance up, glassy eyes fighting back the tears that he refused to let fall. "Without her, I probably wouldn't be the person that you're talking to right now."

 _Without her, I would have probably killed you that day in Rokario..._

He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think of who—no, what—he'd be post-Alluka, without Gon in his life.

—

"She sounds like a wonderful person," Gon breathed, though his heart ached. He already guessed this story didn't have a happy ending.

"She was. She was... she was everything I had," Killua's words dripped with muted anguish, and all Gon wanted to say was _'I'm here. You have me, and you always will.'_ but he knew that was selfish, so he kept quiet and continued to listen. "And then, Zhakarov came along."

The hitman's name triggered something deep in Gon's gut—a scalding fire, a consuming hatred. Images of Zhakarov beating Killua half to death drifted into his mind, fueling the anger that he now fought to repress.

He had to _listen_.

"Like everybody in the underworld, Zhakarov started off as a nobody, some self-entitled kid that ran away from home looking for somewhere he belonged. Turns out, he was pretty good at killing, so he found his niche, quickly climbed up in ranks. Once he eventually made a name for himself, he was handed his first _elite_ job," Killua spoke sardonically as he recounted the events as best as he could remember. "He was contracted to kill my older brother."

"Illumi, huh?" Gon's thoughts immediately jumped to the eldest Zoldyck sibling. He'd had the displeasure of meeting him once and he could understand why anyone would want to put a bullet through his head. "Somebody was actually stupid enough to put a hit on him? Not that anyone could blame 'em, really."

Killua snorted at that, his spirits momentarily lifted. "I know, right? Anyway..." Noting Gon's silence, the ex-assassin cleared his throat and continued. "After weeks of no leads, or even a sight of Illumi, Zhakarov had to come up with a way to flush him out. So he went for the one thing that he knew Illumi cared about."

Gon's brows knit together in understanding. "You."

Without a doubt the one that Illumi Zoldyck cared about the most, despite his unorthodox way of showing it, was Killua. But he could tell the thought certainly didn't comfort his partner.

"I was at the park with Alluka at the time. It was one of those nasty winter days, with the stupid chilly wind and gray clouds all over the sky. I just wanted to go home, but she wanted to play on the swings, and just the thought of her smiling face made me so happy. I should have said no, but I didn't," Killua choked towards the end, his gaze dropping to his lap once more.

It suddenly hit Gon: _Killua blamed himself for this._

"And that's when it happened. He came out of nowhere—next thing I knew he was holding a gun to Alluka's head, and it was then that my hands were tied. I could have killed him so easily... but he had Alluka. She was just a normal kid. She was frail and sickly and she wasn't trained as an assassin from birth like the rest of us were. In order to keep her safe, I couldn't do anything."

He moved on to explain how they'd spent weeks in a dank basement, their sustenance nothing but the stale bread and water that Zhakarov tossed their way to barely keep them alive. They'd been whipped and tortured—at least Killua had been. He'd volunteered to take it all, all for the sake of keeping Alluka safe.

Gon's grip on Killua's hands tightened. "Killua..."

"I could bear most of the pain with ease." Killua shrugged as if it were a trivial matter. "I just had to fake it—he never knew. Anyway, we all waited and waited, but Illumi never showed up."

Amber eyes widened incredulously. "What? Why didn't he? I thought..."

"That bastard knew I was strong enough to escape by myself, no sweat. And sure, I could have done it if it had been just me. But I couldn't leave her, Gon."

 _No, of course, you couldn't..._

Gon bit back a biting comment directed towards his least favorite Zoldyck and encouraged Killua to keep on going.

"Eventually, Zhakarov ran out of patience and decided to kill us. He went for Alluka first, and that was around the time when I stopped playing nice. I turned his own knife on him, and I stabbed him in the face."

Gon could recall a faded and barely noticeable scar on the hitman's face.

"Then I grabbed Alluka and ran. We didn't make it that far, though... It was the middle of winter, and we were somewhere up in the mountains. There were snow and ice everywhere, and the wind was blowing so hard that it kept knocking us off our feet." Killua's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Eventually, he caught us."

The heaving chest, the helpless look on Killua's face that simply screamed _'I tried... I did all I could. But it wasn't enough.'_ was absolutely heartbreaking.

"I threw myself over Alluka, trying to shield her as best I could. I just wanted to protect her... I _begged_ him, Gon," Killua's voice finally cracked. "I fucking begged for him to spare her, to just kill me instead. But he was mad—he was so mad. His face was wrecked and there was blood everywhere, and he had the craziest, scariest look in his eyes. I'd never been so afraid."

 _Killua..._

Gon had never seen Killua like this, not even the first time he'd seen him cry. All this time together and he never even had a clue.

"And then he shot her." His partner's hand subconsciously came to rest on his lower abdomen. "He shot her right through me."

 _That's... that's enough!_

"Killua, it wasn't your fault." Gon batted away the unspoken words in Killua's mind.

Killua choked back a sob as he looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears that he couldn't hold back anymore. "Gon..."

"You can't blame yourself for other people's actions, things that are completely out of your control."

"But I—"

"No. Just shut up and listen to me." Gon took Killua's face in his hands and held him, _really_ held him.

—

Suddenly, Killua found himself wide-eyed and breathless as Gon's eyes locked on his—caring and sincere—their foreheads touching, and suddenly he didn't want to think anymore.

"Killua, Alluka is dead." A pained whimper escaped Killua as he grit his teeth, but Gon kept going because he _knew_ Killua needed to hear this. "But you didn't kill her—Zhakarov did. It's not your fault. Do you understand me?"

He did but, at the same time, he didn't. He'd been battling these inner demons in silence for over a decade, wondering if there was something more that he could've done, something that he'd overlooked.

 _But it wasn't my fault._

 _I could have saved her somehow._

 _No, Killua... just stop._

 _—_

"Stop," Gon's voice was firm but gentle as he echoed Killua's thoughts. His hands slid down Killua's face and neck as he pulled back, moved to his shoulders, ran down Killua's arms soothingly. He could see the distress in Killua's stormy eyes, the helpless look on Killua's face, and all he could think of was how much he hated the one that had hurt him.

"Enough... I can tell you're hurting, and I can't blame you for it. Losing someone that you care about so much..." His own thoughts jumped to his most important person—Killua. "...so much. I can't even begin to imagine how that feels."

 _I don't want to. I don't want to think of my life without you, even for a second._

"But it's not your fault. You need to stop doing that stupid thing where you blame everything on yourself. I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore." Gon then added the last with a note of affection, "Dumbass."

And that was him, that was all Gon. He was blunt and crass and... _saying everything Killua needed to hear._

"Gon, you idiot."

With a muffled sob, Killua buried his face in Gon's shoulder. Gon enveloped him in his arms, and then simply held him. Nothing else needed to be said—their actions spoke for themselves.

 _Thank you, for listening to me..._

 _No, thank YOU for trusting me._

* * *

Lay It All On Me - Rudimental ft. Ed Sheeran


	8. Scars

_A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the wonderful feedback! It was super motivational (and it made me EXTREMELY HAPPY!) Formatting was a pain in the ass for this one, but I hope you guys like it!_

* * *

 _I know you want me too, even if it's not now. I'm gonna wait it out._

 _But don't you dare forget that moment that we had. I know we both felt it._

 _I wanna tell you things I'd never tell myself. These secrets hurt like hell._

* * *

The rain outside fell sparsely at first, muted and soothing against the wooden deck just outside the window—perfect for a quiet evening in.

The only sounds in the rec room came from the scratching of pencil on paper and the lazy strumming of guitar strings. Every once in a while, a faint string of curses from Leorio would break the atmosphere, but then he'd go back to his paperwork and the process would repeat itself once more.

With a smile, Gon observed Leorio bent over his med school homework before turning back to the guitar—the instrument that Leorio had bought himself in order to 'pick up chicks' but had never bothered to actually learn to play. His fingers danced over the strings, creating a peaceful rhythm to accompany the rain.

When he had first started, he'd been no good at playing the guitar. He wasn't musically inclined, or even remotely close to what one would call 'artistic'. His hands were large and his fingers were calloused. But he had wanted to _learn_ , so he practiced. He practiced every day, sometimes in the morning while he was waiting for Killua to unwillingly roll out of bed, sometimes at night when he had downtime and a moment to himself. He practiced until his fingers bled, until every strum, every note came to him naturally.

Gon lowered his head over his guitar and began to sing in a soft but clear tenor.

—

 _You look so wonderful I must confess_

 _I love your hair like that_

 _Like gentle starlight, it frames your face_

 _Brings out the moon in your eyes._

—

 _We are surrounded by all of these lies_

 _And people who talk too much_

 _You've got that kind of look in your eyes_

 _As if no one knows anything but us_

—

His shoulders swayed ever so slightly with the rhythm, his eyes closed the whole time though his fingers knew their cue.

—

 _And should this be the last thing I see_

 _I want you to know it's enough for me_

 _'Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need_

 _I'm so in love, so in love_

 _So in love, so in love_

—

 _You look so beautiful in this light_

 _Your silhouette over me_

 _The way it brings out the blue in your eyes_

 _is the Tenerife Sea._

 _And all of the voices surroun—_

—

Gon paused abruptly half-verse when he noticed Leorio staring at him with a knowing look on his face. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

It's not like Leorio had never heard him sing before.

"That's a nice song, Gon. Anyone in particular on your mind?" A teasing smile played at Leorio's lips as he propped an arm up on the back of his chair, adjusting himself so he could better face his friend.

A light blush swept across Gon's cheeks at the implications. "Ah... no."

"You're a terrible liar," Leorio chuckled, shaking his head.

"God, I know. It's a curse," Gon sighed, carding his fingers through his hair. His words sounded like a complaint yet he was smiling—that sweet adoring smile reserved for a special someone, that smile that Leorio would recognize anywhere.

"Are you always thinking about Killua?"

The blunt question had Gon bringing a hand up to hide his burning face. "Is it really that obvious, Leorio?"

It was both amusing and endearing. Classic Gon.

Lips now upturned in a full-fledged grin, the resident doctor leaned back in his chair, fingers interlocking behind his head. "Pshh... were you trying to be subtle? Because... you're not subtle, Gon."

A nervous chuckle came from the thief as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Guess I'm not, huh?"

The two then fell into silence—Gon strumming the guitar idly and gazing at nothing in particular, Leorio observing him carefully.

"So..." After a few moments of contemplative silence, Leorio spoke up again, "When are you going to tell him?"

"I'm not."

Leorio almost fell off his chair. "What?! Why the hell not?"

Gon's lips were pressed into a thin line as he remained in silence.

"Gon?"

He wanted to. God, he wanted to. Holding back felt like torture. He just wanted to take Killua by the shoulders, and look into that face, into those _eyes_ , and just _tell him_ — _tell him that he loved_ him. He wanted to hold him, comfort him, kiss him again—like he had back at Indigo, but _better—_ especially because in his mind there was the possibility that _Killua actually loved him back_.

It couldn't all be in his head, could it?

The stolen glances—he wasn't the only one. Killua was looking at him more lately, particularly when he thought Gon wasn't looking.

The trembling of Killua's hands in his—did Gon make him nervous? Excited? That had never been the case before. Why now?

The _trust_ —because it HAD been trust. Killua had chosen _him_ , of all people, to open up to about Alluka, his best-kept secret, when for years he'd fought to hold it all inside.

His hands on Killua's face. Their foreheads pressed together.

That _kiss_ like lightning.

That kiss that Killua had called _'strictly professional'_.

His jaw clenched as he remembered Killua's words. _Why?_

There had to be a reason.

"Gon. Are you alright?"

Leorio's voice broke him out of his reverie.

Taking a deep breath, Gon finally said, "Killua's dealing with a lot of things right now." Pain, fear, guilt, to name a few. "The last thing he needs right now is to have to deal with my feelings."

Leorio said nothing. He collected his papers and straightened them out before sliding them into a folder that, along with his pencil, made it into his briefcase.

"That's all fine and good, Gon. Just remember..." He slid on his jacket and headed for the door. "What you think Killua needs and what Killua actually needs might not be the same thing."

When Gon didn't respond right away, Leorio pursed his lips. "Well, I'm going out for drinks with Baise and some of the other guys. I'll see ya tomorrow."

Gon barely had time to utter a quick goodbye before the slamming door cued him to his friend's departure. He leaned his head against the couch behind him, staring at the ceiling in thought. He sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily.

—

 _And should this be the last thing I see_

 _I want you to know it's enough for me_

 _All that you are is all that I'll ever need._

—

* * *

It was raining harder, Killua noticed as he perched himself on the bay window of his bedroom, forehead pressed against the cool window pane. Outside, gusts of wind tossed the rain in wild vortices and diagonal sheets and everything in between. Midnight blues aimlessly followed the chaotic drops as they drew swirls across the glass.

 _I can't sleep._

Killua remained unfazed even as the entire sky lit up suddenly—an overture for the roll of thunder that followed soon after. He had other things on his mind...

/Flashback/

 _He pulled back from Gon's embrace, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. His long fringe—longer these days than he usually kept it—had chosen that exact moment to fall into his eyes, if only to capitalize on what was growing to be a very unbecoming moment for him. With a sigh, he moved to brush his bangs out of his face._

 _"Sorry about tha—" the words caught in his throat as his fingers met warmth—Gon's hand. He froze._

 _Gon's eyes moved from the long wisp of silver just barely out of his reach to meet the dark blue of Killua's eyes, and suddenly breathing was just a little bit harder._

 _He had such beautiful eyes—golden and warm like the sun. Of course, because Gon and the sun were one and the same. At least, they were for Killua._

 _And then Gon finally brushed the strands from Killua's face, his fingers lingering just a bit too much behind Killua's ear, and Killua couldn't help but shiver. His skin tingled where Gon's fingers had made contact, a sensation like he'd never felt before. And even as his partner pulled away, the feeling did not fade. It only intensified._

 _What was it? Why—_

 _"This is our stop."_

 _Without another word, Gon rose to his feet and headed towards the cabin exit. Feeling helpless, Killua had no choice but to follow._

/Flashback/

He had always gravitated to Gon, that was nothing new. Gon was magnetic and temperamental, charismatic and impulsive, sincere and stubborn. Though he'd tried at first, Killua had never really been able to fight it because being with Gon made him feel _alive again_ in a way he hadn't thought possible. Despite their friends thinking that it was Gon tagging along for the ride, it was really the other way around because Gon was the sun and Killua was the satellite.

But somewhere along the road, something changed. It wasn't just this inexplicable fascination anymore.

Gon broke his rhythm and tore down his walls. He invaded his mind, plagued his thoughts _every single moment_.

His heart was telling him what he didn't want to hear, what he didn't want to admit.

He was in love with Gon.

He loved him. He wanted him, he wanted everything—his gentle eyes that looked at Killua like he was the only one that mattered, his kind smile that brightened Killua's day even in the worst of times, his warm touch that set fireworks off in the pit of his stomach. He needed Gon desperately, and every part of him was screaming that Gon was _there_ and that he already wanted him; that Gon was already his _,_ and all he had to do was reach out and grasp this opportunity.

But his brain turned this rosy view to a monochromatic shade of gray, dousing the ill-timed sparks that were his _feelings_. Because, in reality, he was terrified of losing Gon.

He already had a price on his own head. If he were to act on his feelings, he would just be painting a target on Gon—one big obnoxious target with Zhakarov's name on it.

He had already lost Alluka. If he lost Gon, he would have nothing left.

Thunder boomed in the distance seconds before the sky lit up a brilliant white—the lightning answering the thunder's call and snapping Killua out of his thoughts. It was a full-fledged storm out now.

 _So much for sleep._

He jumped from the window and stepped out into the hallway, careful to close the door quietly behind him. Gon's room was right across from his, and he'd hate to wake him.

He eventually found himself in the training room.

Grabbing a roll of bandages, he began to wrap his hands with practiced efficiency, looping his thumb and wrapping behind the hand—wrist, fingers, knuckles, thumb, knuckles, wrist. He threw a few test punches before turning his attention to one of the punching bags hanging in the room. It was time to play.

He bounced in place for several seconds, arms slack, before unleashing a barrage of quick snapping punches that sent the sand-filled bag reeling backward. He worked on his breathing as he ducked low, swung to the side as if facing an invisible opponent that aimed to knock him out. Soon he fell into a rhythm, all controlled breathing and calculated punches.

'One-two, one-two, one-two-three'

The rhythm was like a chant in his head as he continued pummeling the bag, backing up when it came at him, following it when it swung away. The thoughts that had been plaguing his mind all but dissipated as he separated himself from everything and just _focused_.

'One-three-two, three-one-two-three-three'

As the sweat began to pour down his body, off came his shirt—he used it as a makeshift towel before tossing it aside. He carried on like this for several minutes, unaware of the figure leaning against the door frame, just watching.

* * *

 _It's 1am. What is he doing...?_

Gon wanted to tear his eyes away but couldn't, gaze locked intently on Killua's frame.

Sculpted arms, muscled abdomen, strong shoulders commanded his attention as Killua continued his unrelenting assault on the punching bag. With a cry the ex-assassin flew through the air, releasing a spinning kick that almost snapped the bag from its mount.

He was driven. He was focused. He was _magnificent_.

Killua's fighting form displayed such beauty and grace, which masked the surprising amount of power behind his blows. Gon loved seeing him like this. This tenacity and dedication were just a part of what made Killua who he was, and just another reason Gon was so in love with him.

And yet, that wasn't why he couldn't stop staring.

Though he'd lived with the ex-assassin for almost six years now, he couldn't recall a single time where he'd seen Killua shirtless and now it was painfully clear why.

Never in his life had Gon seen so many scars.

Killua's body resembled alabaster, but it was far from smooth. A plethora of marks, most faded silver and pink, marred what should have been milky skin. They spanned his chest, stretched across his shoulders, and down his back. Most looked faint and superficial. Some were jagged, with rough edges. And others were raised, the obvious remnants of a merciless whipping.

 _'I withstood the torture so he wouldn't lay a hand on her.'_

Gon's jaw clenched in agony. He should have known. He should have connected the dots, should have figured that the faded, barely-there scars that wrapped around Killua's arms were really a part of something more.

 _'I faked the pain—he never knew.'_

There was no way. There was absolutely no way that Killua hadn't felt the pain.

How could someone do this to a _child_?

How could someone do this to _Killua_?

"Killua," the name spilled out of Gon's mouth before he had a chance to stop himself, and he instantly regretted it.

Killua came to a screeching halt mid-punch, tension evident in his shoulders as he realized that he was no longer alone. He swung around, surprise (or was it panic?) etched across his face. "G-Gon! What are you doing here?"

Gon didn't miss how Killua closed himself up, arms folding over his chest in an attempt to hide as much skin as possible. His partner looked around, presumably in search of his discarded shirt.

A lump formed in Gon's throat. Killua was self-conscious, he could tell.

 _Quick, say something, anything._

"I was about to go to bed when I heard something down here." He watched as Killua finally found his crumpled shirt by the weight racks and tugged it over his head. "Should have known it was you, Killua. Couldn't sleep?"

"Nope... Not sleepy, I guess," Killua gave a shrug, looking much more at ease now that he was hiding behind a layer of fabric.

He wanted to ask. He wanted to talk about it—the scars. But he knew he couldn't push it. Killua trusted him, and that trust was something Gon cherished. Like with his past and Alluka, Killua would come to him when he was ready.

With this thought, Gon grabbed the role of bandages and began wrapping his own hands. He allowed a teasing grin to spread across his lips. "Yeah? I'll tire you out then."

—

A playful scoff. "Please. You wish you could keep up with me."

Though he appeared confident on the outside, Killua's blood thrummed in his veins. There was just something about being here with Gon, just after coming to terms with his own feelings—it was anxiety, excitement, euphoria all at once.

His heart clenched deep inside his chest. This was quite possibly the worst timing. A wave of vulnerability threatened to overcome him, but he couldn't let it show.

He fell back into a guarding stance, and Gon mimicked him. Silence spread across the room as they sized each other up.

Killua finally dared speak. "You ready?" His tone was surprisingly even.

"You know it," Gon smirked.

—

Gon attacked first, fists flying at Killua with surprising speed. The ex-assassin rocked side to side, dodging each and every one of the jabs with ease.

A smirk. "Too slow." Killua retaliated, aiming a hard side kick to Gon's stomach.

With a grunt, Gon deflected it and jumped back to avoid the back fist that followed. "I'm just warming up."

He burst into a barrage of hooks and jabs that Killua easily slipped before coming back with a punch of his own. Gon blocked it and came back around with a spinning kick. Killua ducked low, the powerful move grazing his hair. He immediately came up with an uppercut that glanced off Gon's chin—a well-timed jump back his only saving grace. Gon barely had time to recover before Killua's elbow slammed into his chin.

He staggered backward. Though the throbbing pain extended across his jawline, he _smiled_ , brimming with energy. Killua wasn't holding back.

 _Good, because neither am I._

—

It had started as just a friendly sparring match. But almost a half hour in, it had escalated to a full-blown fight.

Killua eyed Gon wearily. His shoulders throbbed in painful protest, the tension that filled him bunching up beneath his shoulder blades as he kept his tightly guarded stance. His abdomen still ached from a well-timed kick he'd failed to evade earlier, and he was well aware that wouldn't be the only thing he'd be feeling in the morning.

This was an unusual case. Killua was more experienced in martial arts. He was skilled, careful and, above all, fast. Despite Gon's broader build and superior strength, he had never been able to catch Killua off-guard during training before.

 _Headstrong, vibrant, breathtaking Gon._

Blue eyes widened as he barely managed to duck a cross straight to the face.

 _Damn it! You have to focus, Killua._

He released a butterfly kick, but Gon dropped to the side, dodging it by a hair's breadth. And just like that, Killua found himself wide open—and Gon noticed. Taking advantage of the brief opening, Gon spun around and pinned Killua's hands behind his back. Killua cursed under his breath, struggling against the restraint.

He was on _fire_.

In a desperate attempt, Killua wrenched one arm away from Gon. He twisted violently, freeing himself from the grip, and jumped back. His chest heaved in tune with his erratic breathing.

 _What is wrong with me?_

His head was swimming. His skin tingled everywhere Gon touched and he _loved_ it, he _hated_ it, he _craved_ it.

 _Fuck._ He couldn't keep going like this.

Aiming to get closer, he lunged at Gon before attempting a leg sweep. Gon easily sidestepped. No good. Killua whirled around and swung a kick to where he knew Gon would be. Relief hit him as the kick connected with a solid thud. But that reassurance was short-lived as Gon dropped down, rolled, and grabbed… and Killua found himself immobilized against the wall.

With Gon leaning against his chest, one hand wrapped around his wrist and the other at his throat, Killua was trapped.

They were so close— _so close_ —that Killua could feel Gon's breath, heavy and winded, on his face. The heat radiating between them was almost suffocating, and their light clothing did nothing to stifle the effect. He swallowed hard, very much aware of the fingers pressed against the too-fast pulse in his throat.

"Killua." The serious tone, edged with an unreadable emotion, only fueled the dread that was clawing at Killua's gut. Looking at Gon, he could see fire in those golden eyes although it was veiled by something _else_.

He desperately needed Gon to _get off him_. Right now.

" _Killua._ " His name, spoken once more from Gon's lips, carried a sense of urgency that reeled him back in from his wandering thoughts.

"Y-yes?"

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

—

Gon hadn't wanted to press the issue. He'd told himself time and again that _this_ was not what Killua needed right now. But now he _had_ to know.

It couldn't just be in his head. Killua had been distracted during most of the fight—it was obvious. It was unusual for him to make clumsy mistakes like he had, to leave himself wide open and vulnerable in a situation where Gon could quickly gain the advantage. But that wasn't all.

The goosebumps that formed along Killua's arms when Gon had gripped his wrists—nervous. The sudden, sloppy movements when Killua had broken free from Gon's hold—desperate. And the _stares_ —the stares that lingered just a bit too much.

Was Killua _reacting_ to him? Was it something about Gon?

Oh, he hoped it was.

With his chest pressed against Killua's, Gon could _feel_ the racing of his heart, the trembling of his partner's body against his own. Killua's vibrant blue eyes, wide and crystal-like, were focused on him, _only_ on him.

It's like he was drowning in a state of feverish delirium. He was so dizzy and drunk on Killua—so close—he could lose his damn mind. He _couldn't_ be the only one feeling this way.

He _needed_ to ask.

 _Do you love me?_

It was a gamble. But it was also a chance Gon was now willing to take.

"Killua, do you lo—"

The sound of shattering glass stole his opportunity. He jumped back with a start as all the alarms of the mansion's security system suddenly went haywire.

"What the—" he started, but Killua had already broken out in a sprint toward the adjacent grand room. "Killua!"

* * *

Save Your Heart - Jason Reeves

Tenerife Sea - Ed Sheeran (Ari's Killua Version)


	9. Fear I

_A/N: Thank you very much to all of you who've taken the time to give me feedback, and to the (amazingly large) number of people that have added this story to their follows or faves! Hopefully you're all ready for what's to come!_

* * *

 _No, not gonna die tonight. We're gonna stand and fight forever._

 _No, we're not gonna die tonight. We're gonna fight for us together._

 _Don't you give up on me. You're everything I need._

* * *

Killua's head swam in incoherent circles as he flew down the corridor that separated the training wing from the grand hall. His heart pounded to the beat of his feet over the cold, unforgiving tile—whether it was from the sudden feeling of threat, or from his encounter with Gon, he couldn't tell.

He was blanketed by an intense dread. It was a tingling in his spine, an asphyxiating tightness in his chest, warning bells ringing maddeningly inside his head. His stomach twisted and churned, and it took all his self-control to not double over with nausea. He fought to keep himself from drowning as heartache, fear, fight-or-flight, crushed him all at once.

 _"Is there something you want to tell me?"_

The desire to go back, to be close to Gon—even in a position as vulnerable as he had been in just a few moments ago—was only overcome by the impulse to run away. If Killua kept this up, if he allowed himself to succumb to his feelings for Gon, he would end up _killing him_.

 _"Killua, do you lo_ —"

What was Gon getting to? A part of him ached to know.

But he couldn't think about it right now.

He pinched his eyes shut, bitterly swallowing his feelings like a horse pill—he had other worries at the moment. His natural instinct screamed at him that something was _horribly wrong_ and he had to figure out what was going on.

He slowed down, jogging his way to a stop in front of a wall-mounted keypad in order to punch out the alarms. The screeching and wiring immediately ceased, leaving behind nothing but an eerie silence. What had triggered the alarms in the first place? He remembered the sound of breaking glass…

He had to keep moving.

A few dozen feet ahead, the hallway stretched and expanded into the mansion's vast entrance foyer, which was punctuated by a sweeping staircase that led to the second floor. An arc of wide Tuscan columns extended around the hall—from within the colonnade, a maze of corridors led to the different rooms. The staircase, made of smooth oak and lined with wrought iron balusters and railings, sat below an impressive glass and iron dome, which was now tarnished by a gaping, jagged hole.

As he got closer, Killua began to distinguish the outlines of several figures standing in the center of the hall. His pulse skyrocketed.

Intruders.

He ducked into a darkened nook as he did what he was best at—melting into the shadows. Midnight blues focused on the pair of figures standing amidst shattered glass. Two men, clad all in black and sporting balaclavas, had come crashing through the ceiling and were now unhooking the rope from their belts as droplets of rain drizzled in and collected in puddles under their boots. Killua ventured closer, crouching behind one of the stone pillars that lined the central hall.

Zhakarov's men… or Sauveterre's? Not that it made any difference at this point. But how?

Their hideout was in the middle of nowhere—far-off country side, tucked away between forest and mountains, away from any major cities or criminal centers. In the current weather conditions, it should have been almost impossible to find, unless you knew where to look—only a select few were privy to its location, all in order to guarantee their safety from retaliating enemies.

 _So how…?_

The movements that caught the corner of his eye reminded him that this was no time for questions. Subconsciously, his eyes narrowed into sharp azure slits—it was time to _act_.

Killua leaped out from behind the pillar, lunging at the closest intruder. Startled, the man reflexively took a swing at him, but Killua caught his wrist and snapped it viciously. The next few moments passed in a violent blur as the ex-assassin struck thrice—nose, throat, gut. He then swung his knee up, slamming it _hard_ into the man's jaw in a devastating finishing move.

The time that it took his unfortunate victim to hit the floor was enough for Killua to swipe the handgun holstered on the man's belt. In one fluid motion, he clicked off the safety and spun around to aim the gun at the second intruder. The other man froze halfway through reaching for his own weapon, wide brown eyes staring back at Killua through the holes of his balaclava.

 _"Say goodnight,"_ Killua whispered with a chilling smile, right before his well-aimed bullets blew through the man's chest—his black kevlar vest useless at point-blank range. As the lifeless figure collapsed by his feet, the ex-assassin allowed his shoulders to slack.

A mixture of rain and sweat stung his eyes as he wiped his face with his shirt—the blood that had splattered on him drawing gruesome crimson streaks across the gray fabric. He massaged his temples with clammy fingertips as his _'assassin mode'_ faded away, leaving behind the dazing aftermath. Though his head was fuzzy, his entire body weighed him down like lead.

 _Not now, not now._ He shook his head in an attempt to fight it off, but it was Gon's alarmed voice that snapped him out of it.

"Killua, look out!"

A faint click drew Killua's gaze skyward in time to see the myriad of weapons pointed down at him through the gap in the ceiling. His eyes widened.

 _Oh. Shit._

A volley of projectiles rained down into the hall as he burst out in a sprint, desperately trying to get out of the line of fire—the shards of glass blanketing the floor cutting into his bare feet but he didn't slow down.

"Ngh… Incoming!" He dove towards Gon.

Warm hands encompassed Killua's securely as Gon pulled him to safety behind a nearby column, the bullets ricocheting off the stone and whistling past them.

Gon's hands moved to grip Killua's shoulders, anxious amber eyes taking in the blood splatters. "Killua, are you hurt? This blood—"

"Not mine," the ex-assassin assured, ignoring the way his heart tightened in his chest. The alarm in Gon's voice betrayed fear—no, panic. Momentarily fighting all reason, he gripped Gon's face with cold fingers, bringing their foreheads to rest together in an attempt to calm him down. "I'm fine… I'm fine."

"...okay," Gon's voice wavered, still slightly on edge, as his trembling hands came to rest over Killua's. He nodded over his shoulder. "What's going on? Who are they?"

"I'm guessing they're here for the data cards…"

 _Or maybe they're here to kill me_ — _probably both._

That last part was only Killua's speculation, but he didn't dare voice it—not to Gon, not right now.

The barrage of bullets came to a halt. The two took this opportunity to dash towards the adjacent corridor, pausing only to look back as a stream of figures clad in dark garb began sliding down the previously abandoned ropes, spilling into the grand room.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve… they just kept coming.

"There's too many of them. We can't fight them like this." Gon leaned against the wall with a sharp intake of breath.

Killua nodded and gripped his arm. "I know, come on."

* * *

Gon followed Killua into the garage, clicking the door shut quietly behind him.

The garage—Kurapika's usual reprieve—was about the size of a small hangar, with towering metal cabinets and solid-wood work benches strewn with various tools and parts. Both sides were lined with enough fast cars to satisfy the likes of Dominic Toretto.

Killua's favored bike leaned on its kickstand beside the door, his leather jacket hanging over the handlebars. He grabbed the jacket, along with his riding boots, on his way over to the cabinets. With practiced efficiency, he started punching pin codes to unlock the cabinets as Gon dug out a pair of grease-stained coveralls and work boots from one of the utility closets.

"Gon? Killua?"

Both of them jumped.

Gon swung around first wielding an enormous wrench just as Kurapika poked his head out from behind a red Porsche Targa. The wheelsman was armed with a long crow-bar and looked more relieved than anything.

Gon lowered the wrench. "Kurapika. Thank god."

"I'm so glad to see you guys. I've been wondering what's going on. I heard the alarms—" Kurapika paused. "Killua, you're covered in blood!"

"We're under attack." Killua ignored the comment and extended his hand. "I need your cell. Where's Leorio?"

"He texted me about two hours ago, saying the weather was ridiculous," Kurapika grimaced as he handed over his cell phone. "He's probably not coming back tonight."

Killua swore. "We need to get to Cass. Zhakarov's men are here, and they want the data cards." Once he'd dialed Cass's number, he brought the phone up to his ear. "Come on, come on—" His bare foot tapped restlessly as he waited for an answer. "Cass!"

"Kil? What the HELL? I've been calling your cell non-stop for the past half hour!" came Cass' high-pitched, freaked out voice over the speaker. Killua winced as he held the phone at arm's length. "The security system was going off, scared the living shit out of me…"

"Cass—"

"Did Leorio break another window again!? I swear I'll freaking kill him—"

"Cass, listen! We're under attack," Killua pinched the bridge of his nose as he explained for the third time that night. "Zhakarov's men are here, and they're probably looking for the SD cards as we speak."

The ensuing silence made Killua worry that maybe they'd lost connection.

"...No shit, like a home invasion?" Cass finally asked.

"Yes."

Another pause.

"Cass?"

"Kil, that type of thing only happens in crappy action movies."

"Well, it's happening now."

—

Cass cursed under her breath. "I'm by myself."

Of all the rotten luck… it was always one damn occupational hazard after the other. Why did she even hang out with these guys, anyway?

"I know. Are you in the lab?"

"Yeah." She turned to look at her work station. A large computer monitor demanded the most attention, while several other smaller screens faded into the background. A collection of keyboards, random contraptions, and used coffee mugs cluttered the desk space. The top right of her main screen showed the progress on decoding the SD cards—eighty-nine percent.

"I'm heading over to you. Think you can clear us a path?" Killua's clear voice brought her back to reality.

"I'm gonna try, but I've been having issues with the security feeds. All my screens are still showing static." She frowned at the rows of useless television screens above her monitor. Propping her phone on her shoulder to free both her hands, she started typing furiously. "The intruders must be using some sort of satellite interference—I'm trying to override it as we speak. Where are you right now?"

"I'm in the garage. Gon and Kurapika are here with me."

She pursed her lips petulantly. "Well, nice of y'all to have a pow-wow without me!"

"Cass."

"Right, right."

—

Meanwhile, Gon retrieved several pistols, a few flash grenades, and all the clips he could carry from the cabinets—it wasn't exactly an arsenal, but it would have to hold them over until (and if) they could reach the armory. Stashed in the very back in a small rucksack he found a handful of earpieces, which he also grabbed.

"Here." He tossed an earpiece to each to his companions and then held out the guns. "This is all we've got."

"We'll make do with that." Killua grabbed a pair of pistols, slid them into his jacket pockets, and slipped on the earpiece. "Cass, we're onli—"

He gasped as Kurapika forced him down to the floor, just as a stream of automatic gunfire roared through the windows, shattering the panes of tempered glass.

—

"Ahh!" Cass jumped at the sound of gunshots. "What was that? Are you okay?"

—

"We're fine!"

Killua and Kurapika quickly dove behind the Targa, while Gon took cover behind a large rolling toolbox. He blind-fired over the edge of the box, dispensing a few rounds just so the enemy would cease fire, if only for a moment. Finally drawing a brief opening, he scurried over to the others, bullets sparking as they chased him.

"Cass, this is getting bad." Killua knitted his brows anxiously just as Gon slid beside him. "Talk to me."

—

"Got it!" The girl pumped her fist up in the air, taking a few seconds to hop up and down in a victory dance as she regained some of the security camera feed. "Half of my screens are up. I have no visuals on my wing—however, I can see the intruders in the garage. There's four of them, heavily armed. Are you guys ready?"

—

Gon loaded a fresh cartridge into his magazine and slid it back into place. He glanced over at Killua with a roguish smile that sent the ex-assassin's heart for a roller coaster ride. "We're always ready."

 _No… focus!_

"Alright. First one's creeping by the white M235i."

Killua nodded towards Kurapika, who returned the gesture and threw a wrench as hard as he could towards the back of the room, knocking over a toolbox in the process. The man closest to the BMW whirled around to face the source of the noise, giving Gon a clear shot of his back.

"Got him." He quickly ducked as the other men opened fire once more, the bullets ricocheting off the Targa and the metal tool shelves that overlooked their hiding spot.

Cass' worried voice chimed in their ears. "You guys alright?"

"Yes, keep going," Killua prompted.

"Oooookay then… number two is crouching by the Z06 Corvette."

"Mine."

Killua dove behind the adjacent McLaren F1, barely dodging two rounds aimed for his head. He rolled once, aimed under the car, and shot the man's foot. The intruder wailed, falling over holding his leg. He was silenced by a clean shot to the forehead.

"Nice shot! Three is behind the Bugatti."

"Just a warning, I'll kill either of you if you hit the car," Killua grumbled. He might have been kidding—but then again, maybe not. The blue Bugatti Veyron was his favorite car.

"I've got it."

Kurapika burst into a dash around the edge of the room in order to get closer. With a primal cry, the man clad in black opened fire, shooting wildly in hopes of hitting the blonde. Kurapika's excellent reflexes served him well, however, as he ducked and rolled out of the way. Coming to stop on one knee, he raised his gun and fired a round of much more accurate shots that downed his target.

The wheelsman barely had time to recover when a bullet zipped just an inch from his face, the wind following the bullet's trail making his blonde bangs sway.

The last man suddenly crumbled next to the Lamborghini Aventador, a single bullet lodged in his neck. Kurapika turned around to see Killua, gun still raised, eyes dark as he glared at his fallen prey.

Cass' sigh of relief came through their earpieces. "That's it. You're done."

"That's just this room, though." Kurapika shook his head. "I wonder if Gotoh and the other butlers are on their way, or if they even know anything's going on."

"When the security system is tripped in the mansion, the alarms go off at their place as well. They should be here."

Killua dialed the butler complex. Meanwhile, Gon swept the room, scavenging guns and ammo from the bodies, pocketing some and saving the rest for his companions.

Two minutes later, the cell had no tone.

"Fuck. They must be blocking the service somehow." Killua clicked his tongue in distaste. As much as he hated to admit it, this was a well-choreographed, well-executed attack. Then again, it was to be expected from an enemy of Zhakarov's caliber.

A shrill scream in their ears had their hearts soaring through the roof.

"Cass?" Gon brought a hand up to his ear. "Cass, what's wrong?"

"I finally got visuals on the rest of my screens, and I can see Zhakarov. Him and his entourage are coming this way!"

Killua's blood ran cold. "Leave, now!"

"I can't," the girl whimpered, sounding like she was at the point of tears. "They're blocking the only exit, and I'm not Jason Bourne like you weirdos."

Gon and Killua looked at each other before bolting, Kurapika following closely behind.

 _Cass, we're coming for you._

* * *

Cass pushed the heavy filing cabinet, groaning as she put all of her weight behind her efforts. To her dismay, it barely budged.

"No no no… Come on, Cass. Do you really want to die today?" she berated herself as she rammed the cabinet with all her might. To her relief, it started moving.

 _Yes! Overcoming the static friction is the hardest part. Kinetic friction? No sweat. Go go go!_

A few minutes later, she'd managed to barricade the door with the filing cabinet, several chairs, and one of the desks. She didn't really expect that to deter Zhakarov and his men, but at the very least it would slow them down.

Quickly, she powered off all her non-essential equipment and killed the lights. She tucked herself within the confines of a closet, hunkered down behind an assortment of plastic crates and cardboard boxes full of old computer parts and tangled cords. She clutched a baseball bat in her trembling grasp, her pulse beating obnoxiously in her ears.

If she made it through the night, she was buying a lottery ticket and moving to Jappon.

* * *

"Any sign of the data cards, Struna?" Zhakarov turned to face one of his hired mercenaries, a man distinguished from the others by the navy blue bandanna tied on his bicep.

The two stood at the landing of the staircase, overlooking the main hall. The rain still fell mercilessly through the breach in the ceiling, collecting in puddles that extended through the floor.

"Negative, sir. We've swept most of the lower levels and have found nothing so far. I just dispatched a few small groups in that direction," Struna nodded towards the adjacent corridor leading to the bedrooms.

The older hitman nodded gravely. "And Zoldyck?"

"Not since he eluded our fire earlier. I sent a team after him right away but we haven't heard from them in a while."

Zhakarov's nostrils flared. "If you haven't heard from them by now, they're probably dead. Zoldyck may _look_ relatively inoffensive, but he's as dangerous as they come—don't underestimate him, or you'll be next," he referred to the two bloodied, crumpled bodies that had since been dragged out of the way.

The mercenary nodded his understanding—he'd been hooking up his harness, readying for descent, when it happened. At first, it had been just a blur of silver and black, but before he could process what was happening Diogo was nothing but a mangled pile on the floor. And that idiot, Durant, had been just as unlucky. Had he not seen it with his own two eyes, he wouldn't have believed it.

"My men and I will join in sweeping the top floor," Zhakarov motioned towards his company, a quintet of men built like linebackers and armed to the teeth. "In the meantime, I expect you to do what you're being paid for. Just remember, he most likely won't be alone."

He thought back to Freecss, with his dark hate-filled eyes and menacing aura—a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode.

 _No, he most definitely won't be alone._

"Yes, Sir," Struna nodded. "We will find Zoldyck. As for his associates…?"

"They don't matter. Do as you please. But let me make this very clear..." The hitman's lips curved into a fierce scowl. "I want Zoldyck dead tonight."

* * *

Not Gonna Die - Skillet


	10. Fear II

_A/N: I know I sound like a broken record, but thank you so much for the positive feedback! It really keeps me going! Please enjoy!_

* * *

 _And now, I'm making a promise to get through. We'll tear it all down and light the fuse._

 _And all I know, I won't leave you behind. And that's a reason for me to fight._

* * *

The three of them scurried about the mansion's lower level, hugging the shadows as they advanced towards the main hall. Cass had gone offline—probably in hiding—so they were now on their own.

They'd been lucky so far, managing to avoid any unpleasant encounters. It was an unnatural feeling for Gon—he wasn't a stranger to sneaking around, but there was just something messed up about having to do it in his own home.

He'd deliberately taken point when they'd entered the hallway they now traversed, forcing Killua and Kurapika to linger behind him. The corridor was only six feet wide, with no doors on either side—nowhere to duck for cover if a firefight began. He didn't like it.

To his relief, the trek to the door at the end of the hall was completely uneventful. He reached for the doorknob, just as the door suddenly swung open.

Two of the men in black stood dumbfounded as they gaped at him until recognition flashed through their eyes. The man in the front moved to raise his rifle, but Gon kicked the door closed, snagging the man's arm. Howls of agony flooded the room just as the door swung back _hard_ , sending Gon toppling to the floor.

As he scrambled backward to pick himself up, the second man stomped down on his ankle to pin him in place. He grit his teeth in pain as he struggled to pull himself free, only to have the barrel of a semi-automatic rifle shoved into his chest.

Hostile forest-green eyes stared down at him through the holes of the balaclava, ruthless and unforgiving. With a scowl the man leveled his rifle at Gon's face, finger ready to pull the trigger. But he made one fatal mistake—he forgot about Killua.

A ferocious growl rumbled in the ex-assassin's throat as he snatched Kurapika's crowbar and swung it into the man's head with all his might. The intruder's head whipped aside with a nauseating _'thunk'_ , smattering blood on the door and along the walls.

Without missing a beat, Killua swung around and downed the other man with a forceful blow to the head. Gon's pulse surged as he looked on—it had been a while since he'd last seen Killua fight mercilessly like this.

He'd never been able to explain it, but watching Killua in action gave him such a rush, a thrill.

It had kept him rooted in place when he'd caught up to Killua in the grand hall, mesmerized as Killua wrecked his two opponents in mere seconds.

It had awed him the day they'd met, when he'd ended up pinned to the ground with Killua holding a knife to his throat and an arrow to his heart.

Killua was fascinating and terrifying, in the most beautiful way.

"Gon, are you alright? Can you stand?"

The sound of Killua's voice brought him back from his reminiscing. His partner's choked tone betrayed a stronger emotion—anger maybe, or fear.

 _What is it?_

He looked up, meeting Killua's eyes—full of worry and affection, clear as the moon and the stars. His heart skipped a beat.

 _Do you look at everyone that way, like they mean the world to you? Or is it just me?_

He thought back to the training room, where the chance to find out Killua's true feelings had painfully slipped through his fingers at the last second. The vise in his chest squeezed its jaws around his heart just a bit tighter.

 _Please let it be just me._

"Yeah, I'm okay… thanks, Killua."

 _Enough._

This wasn't a time for feelings—it was a time for survival. Maybe if they somehow made it through…

"Gon?"

Kurapika's lips were pressed into a thin line as he extended him a hand, which Gon waved off. He masked a wince as he picked himself up from the floor, doing his best to ignore the throbbing pain in his ankle. They had to keep moving.

* * *

Cass vented a hushed swear as the sound of the rattling doorknob almost catapulted her heart right out of her chest.

 _They're here, they're here. What do I do?_

She tightened her grip on the baseball bat. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as the rattling intensified. Her heart wanted out—she couldn't tell if she was having an anxiety attack or if it was just the adrenaline dumping into her system.

This was bad. This was _really bad._

Maybe they wouldn't bother with a locked door. That's how it was with break-ins, right? Maybe they would just walk away and continue.

The rattling continued, more forcefully this time.

 _Yeah… wishful freaking thinking, Cass..._

Who was she kidding? These were world-class criminals they were dealing with. She could only hope that her franken-barricade would hold up and that Gon and Killua were on their way.

 _Stupid Cass, of course they're coming._

She knew those two—they would never turn their back on a friend. She just had to be patient. They would be here.

* * *

"Boss, this one's locked," one of Zhakarov's men declared over his shoulder, an amused look on his face as he continued to mindlessly jiggle the doorknob.

An unsettling smirk formed on the hitman's lips. _Bingo._

Locked doors often hid 'treasures' behind them. And he was one step closer.

"Blow it up."

* * *

Gon's eyes widened as the ground rumbled under his feet, a muffled boom audible in the distance. "What the heck was that?"

He quickly rolled into cover, feeling the vibrations of the bullets as they embedded into the opposite side of the stone pillar he crouched behind. Adjacent to him, Kurapika reloaded his weapon as Killua provided cover fire with one of the rifles he'd appropriated earlier.

"That sounded like an explosion, albeit a small one." Kurapika's eyes were dark as he considered the possibilities. "It felt like it was coming from upstairs."

Killua knit his eyebrows as he tossed aside his now-empty weapon. "No good… we have to get up there."

Despite the enemy's resistance, they'd managed to fight their way back to the main hall. To Gon's dismay, the area held the highest concentration of enemies up until this point—just how many men had Zhakarov brought with him anyway?

 _We must've rattled him last time._

Most of the men stuck close, alternating between ducking behind the columns that flanked the main staircase and blanketing the area with machine gun fire. It was almost like they were _guarding_ the way to the second floor.

 _Of course. That's where we need to—_

A stray bullet suddenly tore across the top of Gon's right hand _—_ knocking his gun free _—_ and he hit the ground.

Everything was a hum in his ears as he forced himself to sit up. He struggled to catch his breath, pain stabbing at his hand. He needed to get back up right now and get his gun. He needed to protect his friends.

He needed to protect Killua.

"Gon!"

Killua dropped to his knees next to him, moving to check his injury, but Gon held him back.

"It's just a flesh wound. I'm fine."

He couldn't handle the look on Killua's face—those stormy blue eyes focused only on him like he was _everything_ —a look that made him want to take Killua by the shoulders, push his hands up into his hair, and just _kiss him_ , hold him, whisper to him just how much he loved him. Jaw set, he balled his hand into a fist and faced away.

 _Please, stop looking at me that way._

Ignoring the stinging and burning of the bullet gash, he quickly jumped back up to his feet and, with his good hand, pumped two rounds into the nearest enemy's chest.

 _If you don't, I might not be able to help myself._

He caught sight of one of the men hunkered down behind a huge ceramic vase, calling over a radio to send reinforcement.

 _More of them? No… we can't—_

He quickly assessed what remained in his arsenal and inwardly cringed—five rounds on the gun he was holding, fifteen rounds in the gun in his pocket, two flash grenades, and an unknown number of bullets in his stolen rifle. Killua and Kurapika were probably in the same boat. They were running out of ammo, and Cass was running out of time.

They needed to get through _now._

 _Think, Gon. Think._

"Gon?" Killua's voice was distant in the background as the gears in Gon's head turned.

And suddenly, he had a plan—it was risky, and it was stupid… but it just might work.

Gon abruptly swung around and reached for Killua's hand, intertwining their fingers as his partner looked on with questioning eyes. He brought Killua's bruised hand to his trembling lips and kissed the back of it tenderly.

Killua's eyes widened considerably, his voice an octave higher. "Gon?"

 _It's going to be up to you._

Gon leaned on Killua's shoulder, mouth inches away from his partner's ear. His lips parted. "Killua, I…"

 _'I love you,'_ he wanted to say. His heart throbbed, painfully so—he wanted to speak those words so badly, more than anything.

"I'm sorry," was what he actually said. He swallowed and found his mouth dry as cotton. If he spilled his true thoughts now, if Killua reacted favorably, he wouldn't have the strength to go through with his plan.

"Wait, what are you… Gon, what _—_ "

Killua's words were lost amongst the chaos as Gon released his hand and sprinted out into the open.

"Gon!"

* * *

Cass' heart practically stopped as the closet door was ripped from its hinges. She let out a bloodcurdling scream as she swung her baseball bat in a wide arc, catching the man reaching for her just above the ears. He howled in pain as he dropped to the side, cradling his head in his hands.

Before she could recover from the shock, another pair of hands grabbed her and jerked her out of the closet. She screamed and kicked wildly as one of Zhakarov's men, distinguished by his over-muscled body and hooded black eyes, shoved her down to the floor and held his hand over her mouth.

"Hey boss, this one's got some fight in her," he chuckled darkly before leering down at Cass. "You're a feisty one, aren't you?"

"Bitch almost fucking split my skull…" the man from earlier—with cropped brown hair and cold blue eyes—spat out as he picked himself from the floor, glaring darkly at Cass. "I'll tear her to pieces."

"Easy, Anzo. You'll get your chance later."

It took a tremendous effort for her not to cry out in panic. She forced herself to stay still, to gather her wits and bide her time. She had to come up with _something_.

She would NOT be a damsel in distress while her friends risked their lives out there.

* * *

His name on Killua's lips faded in the distance. Gon aimed—struggling to keep his left hand steady—and opened fire, taking out two men in the process.

"Look, over there!"

"Open fire. Open fire!"

Almost mechanically, he slid one of the flash grenades from his pocket, snatched out the pin, and rolled it into the middle of the hall. He then dove behind a nearby sculpture, barely avoiding being blown to pieces by enemy fire.

The grenade detonated in a blinding flash, the intense light temporarily dazzling everyone in the hall. Gon peered around the edge of the statue to see Killua across the hall, holding up his arm to shield his face as he stared back at him dumbfounded.

—

The brush of Gon's breath against his skin.

 _"Killua, I…"_

His words, which seemed to hold back a desperate need.

 _"I'm sorry."_

 _Why are you sorry? What are you doing?_

His heart caught in his throat as Gon suddenly let go, slipping away through his fingers.

 _No... don't go!_

"Gon—" Killua moved to follow, but Kurapika snatched his arm and forcefully pulled him back.

"He's clearing the way for us—look!" Kurapika motioned to the stairway, where only a few dazed stragglers remained as the rest of them moved in Gon's direction. "You need to trust him! He's going to be alright."

"But… but I—" the ex-assassin argued weakly as he turned towards Gon again.

 _I don't want to leave you._

 _"Go!"_ his partner mouthed, and Killua found himself swallowing a brick. He wanted to stay. But Kurapika was right—Gon was making a diversion for them, and it was working.

 _You can't die._

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to look away. "I swear by everything that is holy—if he dies, I will fucking kill him."

 _I love you._

Kurapika chuckled. "Let's go."

Killua rolled from behind the column and sprung into action. He closed in on the nearest intruder, an unlucky man who was still partly stunned. He struck the man's gun-wielding arm from below—sending his weapon flying—slipped under his elbow, and slammed his head into a nearby column. Snatching the automatic pistol out of the air, he flipped around and opened fire on those unfortunate enough to be in his range.

 _Just hang in there. I'll come back for you. I promise._

—

Gon was vastly outnumbered but he was much faster than the enemy, and with the added benefit of knowing exactly where he was going.

 _I can do this. I'll make it through. Killua…_

His jaw clenched as the distraught look on Killua's face replayed like a movie in his head, over and over.

 _I won't die. I have to tell you first._

He left his pursuers behind, though the voices and heavy footsteps slamming on the tile were a sure-fire sign that they were still on his trail. He darted into the dining room and hid behind an elegant wooden armoire with ornately carved door panels, one that he and Killua had stolen from an Azian prince's palace several years ago.

He took this chance to reload and survey his surroundings.

Several broad crystal chandeliers extended over the dining room like a glimmering canopy—they were extremely frivolous, gorgeous, and Tsubone's favorite pieces in the entire mansion.

"He went in there!"

"What are you waiting for? Get him!"

Three of his pursuers approached cautiously through the center of the hall, guns at the ready. He grimaced—Tsubone would have his ass later.

 _I have to time this… just right…_

Poking his head around the armoire, he took aim at the chandelier support and shot one, two, three times, shattering the support and bringing down the chandelier down on the unsuspecting thugs underneath it.

* * *

"What the hell is going on?" Zhakarov shouted into his portable radio as the unmistakable sound of screams and gunshots reached their ears.

Cass sat on the floor quietly, the man Zhakarov had called Kosma still holding his hand over her mouth. Her stomach tingled with anticipation.

"Sir, it's Freecss!" A voice unknown to her crackled back out through the radio.

"Is he alone?" the hitman prompted. She noted how his grip on the radio tightened ever so slightly.

"Yes!" came the reply among static.

Gon was alone. That could only mean…

"Idiots, he's a diversion!" Cass could hear the older hitman snarling in the background, but her mind was elsewhere. She glanced over at her computer screen—ninety-four percent. Maybe they could make it.

If only they could keep Zhakarov distracted for long enough, she'd have that data even if they took the cards.

* * *

Crouched behind a corner, Killua surveyed the area up ahead.

Three men flanked what was left of the blown-up doorway. They were all armed with semi-automatic weapons, most likely aimed to slow him down. Though the intruders back in the hall had been fooled, Zhakarov knew he was coming. This made things difficult, but at this point, he didn't really care.

Attacking him in his own home.

Threatening his friends—no, his _family._

Threatening Gon.

Gon who was out there right now, risking his life just so Killua could keep on going.

 _"Killua, I… I'm sorry."_

His grip on his pistol tightened. He would give them hell.

With that, he signaled to Kurapika and then spun around the corner, gun at the ready. He fired two rounds at the man closest to him, killing him in an instant. The other two turned towards the shots but weren't quick enough to respond.

Aiming for their heads, Killua let the bullets fly.

—

Cass watched all three men whip around to face the doorway, the familiar _'crack'_ of firing guns drawing their attention.

"What the hell?"

They were distracted.

 _This is my chance._

With that, Cass jerked her head back from her captor's hand, opened her mouth, and sunk her teeth into him. Kosma wailed in pained surprise as he released her. She quickly swung around, landing a solid right hook across his cheek. Kosma grunted in annoyance, catching her fist in his large hand before she could hit him again.

 _I might not be as tough as everyone else, but I'm not gonna go down without a fight._

She wasn't ready to give up. Hell to the NO.

She stomped down on his foot hard enough to make him stagger in surprise once more. With all her strength she dug in her heel, lunged backward, and sent them both reeling back onto the floor. She rolled on top of him without missing a beat, swinging her fists left and right across his face.

Kosma screamed and drove his fist into Cass' gut, knocking her off him. She cried out in pain as she hit the floor, her arms crossed protectively over herself. To her horror, she coughed up blood onto the floor.

 _It hurts… it hurts so much._

It felt like someone had sliced her open and ripped out her stomach. She resisted the urge to vomit.

 _I don't want to die._

Kosma sat upright on his knees, wiping away the blood from the corner of his mouth as Zhakarov shot him a nasty glare.

"You moron, can't you even handle a little girl?"

"I'll fucking kill her." Kosma shot Cass a chilling look and rose to his feet, drawing a gun.

She whimpered and scrambled backward, aiming to put as much distance between herself and what she was now convinced would be certain death until her back hit the wall.

Kosma leveled the gun at her.

She stifled a scream and hid her face in her hands.

 _"Don't fucking move!"_

* * *

The rain still fell in a steady downpour outside. It soaked through Gon's clothes, and into his boots until they felt like an unnecessary weight. It drenched him until the streams of water rolled down his face, forced his dark hair to cling to his skin.

 _I'm running on empty..._

He was developing a limp—the dull throb in his ankle progressing into a sharp pain. The top of his hand still burned like hell, the strip of fabric he'd wrapped around it now tinted blood red.

He'd barely dodged so many bullets—to the shoulder, to the head, to the heart. He ached to his very core.

He was exhausted.

An old brick wall that framed the way to the gardens soon came into view. Gon dove behind it just as another shot rang out, the bullet embedding into the brick. He ducked low around the side of the wall and returned fire. One of his pursuers dropped, hitting the muddy ground with a thud, but the other kept going.

Only one more left.

 _Good. I don't have the ammo to hold off anymore._

Gon raised the gun to fire his final bullet but then froze as he felt the cold muzzle of a pistol pressed to the back of his neck.

* * *

 _"Don't fucking move!"_

The man closest to the door slipped to the left barely in time to dodge Killua's shot to the neck, the bullet tearing into his shoulder instead. Killua narrowed his eyes and nodded to Kurapika. "Go!"

Armed with the crowbar, Kurapika lunged forward. With a roar, the mercenary turned just in time to block his oncoming attack. The two struggled for control of the weapon, each pushing and pulling to throw the other off balance.

"Killua! Kurapika!" came Cass' frantic cry. As he ran in behind Kurapika, Killua quickly spotted her on the floor at the back of the lab, behind a man easily twice his size.

The man Kurapika was fighting lost his grip on the crowbar, the wound Killua had inflicted on him finally taking effect. Kurapika took the initiative and kicked the crowbar up and away, sending it flying through the air and almost taking out Zhakarov in the process.

Zhakarov's irritated voice rang across the room. "Idiots, get them! Kosma, shoot the girl!"

The man called Kosma grunted and spun around, raising his gun to Cass's head once more.

 _Cass!_

Killua rolled from behind Kurapika and shot Kosma in the calf just as he pulled the trigger, bringing him down to one knee with a howl. Cass screamed as the diverted bullet embedded itself in the concrete above her head.

"You son of a bitch!" Kosma forced himself up to his feet but Killua kicked his gun away and drilled him back down to the ground.

Killua crossed his arms around the mercenary's neck, squeezing so tight that he would have instantly killed a man of lesser stature. Kosma bared his teeth and slapped his forearm against Killua's, breaking his grip. He kneed Killua in the gut, grabbed him by the collar, and sent him flying into Cass.

Killua couldn't ignore the feeble cry of pain that Cass fought to hold back as he crashed into her. They had to get her out of here. Now.

 _Quick, Killua. Think._

His eyes immediately fell on the two large windows in the room—double pane, tempered glass. He rolled over on the floor, aimed, and emptied his few remaining rounds into the nearest one. Though the resistant glass absorbed most of the bullet impact, it started cracking around the edges of the bullet holes.

"Kurapika!"

"On it!" Rolling out of his opponent's way, Kurapika grabbed Cass' desk chair and rushed the window, shattering the glass into pieces.

Killua closed his hand around Cass' wrist and flung her into Kurapika just as Kosma wrapped an arm around his throat, pulling him away. He elbowed his captor in the gut, easing the tight grip from around his neck.

"Go," he ordered as he struggled to break himself free. "Get out of here!"

Kurapika nodded in understanding.

"No, wait! We can't leave him! Killua!" Cass screamed as Kurapika dragged her out the window.

"After them, Anzo! Don't let a single one of them escape!" Zhakarov ordered. Anzo nodded and followed his escaping prey out the window.

Killua squirmed in Kosma's grip, landing two elbow hits to the man's face and slipping out of his leather jacket to escape. He dove for the crowbar resting on the ground a few feet away.

Kosma snarled and tossed the jacket aside. "Get back here."

The crowbar now firmly gripped in his hands, Killua swung, connecting with Kosma's knees and bringing him staggering back down. Another merciless swing to the head and Kosma was down for the count.

 _'Crack'_

Killua ducked low just in time to dodge a bullet aimed for his head.

Zhakarov stood before Cass's main computer with his weapon raised, a surprisingly calm look on his face as he stared Killua down.

"Zoldyck. Looks like it's just you and me once more."

* * *

 _Is this really happening?_

The rain poured down mercilessly on them. Cass tried to focus as she followed Kurapika along the sloped rooftop—it was all she could do to keep her balance on the slick, wet tile.

 _Is this real life?_

On instinct, she looked back just in time to see Anzo jumping through the window after them. Her pulse instantly skyrocketed.

"Ahhhhhh Kurapika!"

"I know, I know! Just keep running!"

The rooftop eventually came to an end.

"What are we going to do?" She gripped onto Kurapika's arm with shaky hands, trying to steady herself.

Kurapika eyed the rooftop opposite from them. It was completely flat, with the edge extending just under a dozen feet out of their reach. They could make it.

"We jump."

Cass looked at him like he was mad. "We WHAT?"

Kurapika took a few steps back, limbering up to take the jump and then sprung off gaining momentum. At the very edge of the roof, just before the tile dropped away, he jumped—gracefully flying over the void beneath him. He landed a split second later, rolling from the upper back to the left hip.

He stood up and turned to face her. "Cass, you have to jump!"

She stared at him with wide, terrified eyes.

"I can't do this," she shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. Behind her, Anzo was getting closer, a terrifying scowl on his face.

Kurapika grimaced. "You can do it, Cass! I'll be here to catch you. Trust me."

She shook her head vigorously. "N-no! I can't!"

"Cass! Just trust me!"

Anzo rushed closer. He was almost on her.

 _Idiot. If you don't do this, you're as good as dead anyway. No, worse than dead._

She had to do it.

An actual leap of faith—without thinking anymore, she broke out into a run and jumped.

* * *

Zhakarov moved to raise his gun again, but Killua was quick to kick it out of his hand.

The hitman followed with a vicious right hook to the nose that Killua barely dodged, the incoming fist sliding across his cheek. Before Killua could recover, Zhakarov pulled out a gleaming dagger and swung it in a wide arc before him.

Killua's lightning reflexes were the only thing that saved his face, as he barely dodged the swipe and backflipped out of the way. His cheek stung sorely, blood dripping from the fresh cut that spanned underneath his eye.

"I keep finding myself in these situations where I wish I'd killed you the last time I saw you, Zoldyck." Gunmetal gray eyes were trained on the ex-assassin's form as Zhakarov twirled the dagger mindlessly in his hand.

Killua wiped at his cheek with his clenched fist and glared back. "It must be hard to suck at your job so much."

Zhakarov scowled. "I'll skin you alive."

He swung the knife once more.

Killua blocked with a ceramic flower vase that shattered into pieces, shards and dirt flying everywhere. He followed with a high kick to the side of Zhakarov's face, but the hitman blocked it and slashed again. Killua dropped to the floor and rolled out of the way.

Their battle continued like a dangerous waltz. Zhakarov brought back swing after swing but Killua continued to parry his blows, blocking his wrists and throwing his swings off track.

As the fight progressed, while Zhakarov himself seemed relatively fresh and unaffected, Killua found himself dragging. It took a monumental effort to keep his moves from getting sluggish. Every inch of his body ached sorely, his muscles and joints screaming and burning as he pushed them beyond their limits. His fight with Gon; every other battle he'd fought up to this point...

He was spent.

 _Get yourself together, Killua. You can't give up now._

Gon was waiting for him. He had to—

"I've been curious," Zhakarov suddenly spoke up as he jumped backward out of Killua's reach. It took all of Killua's willpower to not hunch over to catch his breath.

"I have this theory, and I'd like to test it. Shall we?" the hitman continued as he pulled his radio up to his mouth. "Change of plans. Zoldyck is mine. Twenty million jenny to the man who brings me Freecss's head."

Midnight blues widened as Killua froze in his tracks. "No—"

"Aha!" Zhakarov wasted no time, a smirk across his lips as he swiped at Killua's stomach, blade cutting through fabric and flesh.

Killua jumped back and brought a hand to his wound. His fingers were instantly tinted crimson. He steadied himself, jaw clenched. Meanwhile, Zhakarov looked immensely pleased with himself.

"As I suspected, Zoldyck, you care too much for him—bad move on your part. It'd be a shame if he were to die because of you. Though he wouldn't be the first."

* * *

 _How the hell did I not hear him coming from behind?_

Gon held his arms up, shifting his grip to the barrel of his pistol as if to surrender his weapon.

The man in front approached cautiously. As he raised his rifle, Gon flipped his pistol again, settling the grip in his palm.

Gon fired.

The shot jolted him backward into the man behind him, sending the barrel of the gun sliding off his neck and the weapon firing uselessly into the air.

In his tired mind, everything was chaos.

The man in front of him sagged forward, already dead from Gon's lucky headshot, while Gon and the man behind him fell back, all of them landing in a tangled heap.

Gon was out of bullets but not out of fight.

He wielded his empty pistol like a club, bashing backward as the man behind him scrambled for a chokehold. He struggled and pushed back, trying to slam his captor against the ground, but his boots slid in the mud, preventing him from getting the leverage he needed.

The man finally got an arm around Gon's neck, squeezing as Gon reached back, blindly trying to dig his fingers into the man's eyes. The man squeezed tighter, and Gon's vision started to blur, his blood roaring in his ears.

 _No, I said I wasn't going to die!_

He tucked his chin in, scooted down, and twisted to the side, breaking himself free of the chokehold. He twisted to get on top of his captor and slammed his fist into his face. And again.

 _Make it stop. I'm done. Please..._

The buzzing in his head made everything seem gray and distant as he lost himself. He punched his opponent in the face so many times that he lost track. He kept punching until the man stopped struggling and went limp beneath him, his face a bloody mangled mess.

Done. He was done.

Shakily, he stood upright. His surroundings swam in and out of focus as the mud slowly gave way under his feet. His fingers dragged down his face, wiping away the blood and rain, trying to brush away the pain.

He was bone-tired. So, so bone-tired.

 _Killua._

He had to find him.

As he turned around to face the manor, a bang echoed in the distance.

The searing pain from a bullet pierced his flesh.

…

He was falling.

…

Falling.

…

Falling.

* * *

The words cut through Killua's very core. With an agonizing scream, he rammed Zhakarov, deflecting the knife with the back of his bare hand, and shoved him against the wall. His trembling fingers clenched around the hitman's throat. "No! You fucking leave him out of this, or I'll—"

"Or you'll what?" Zhakarov's laugh broke off into a cough from the strength of Killua's hold. "You'll kill me?"

"I AM killing you. Tonight. Right now." Blood dripped down from Killua's wound onto the floor. He fought back the lightheadedness that threatened to creep over him, tightening his grip on Zhakarov's neck.

He had to end this. Right now.

Zhakarov's portable radio—lying abandoned on the floor—came back to life in a blur of static noise.

All the remaining color drained from Killua's face as he processed the words that came next.

"Sir!" The radio bleeped among more static. "I got him! Freecss is down."

* * *

 _I will not die, I'll wait here for you. I feel alive when you're beside me._

* * *

A Reason For Me To Fight - All That Remains

Time of Dying - Three Days Grace


	11. Stitches

_A/N: To those of you who screamed your heads off, I'm so sorry! But if you're like me and you love to suffer, I recommend you listen to **To Give A Marionette Life** (from the HxH OST) while you read Killua's scenes, especially the first one. Please enjoy!_

* * *

 _I'm halfway gone, sleepless, I'm battle worn. You're all I want, so bring me the dawn._

 _I need the sun to break. You've woken up my heart, I'm shaking. All my luck could change._

 _I've been in the dark for weeks and I realize you're all I need. I hope that I'm not too late._

* * *

Killua's stomach dropped as the entire world fell away drained of all color, the cruel words sneering at him through the radio and driving a knife deep into his heart.

"I got him," the unknown voice declared among static. "Freecss is down! Freecss is down!"

 _Gon is down..._

It was like a blow to his chest, heavy as a hammer, forcing all the air out of his lungs. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe—he was drowning a thousand feet underwater with no way to kick back to the surface.

 _Gon is down..._

He was slipping, losing his grip over a dark abyss and just _falling_ into the endless void from which he didn't see himself returning, nowhere to go but _down._

 _No, this isn't happening. I refuse to..._

It took but a second for Zhakarov to notice the slack in his hold. He swung his knee up, connecting with Killua's open wound. The ex-assassin choked back a scream, reflexively curling inwards as pain pulsated through his body in waves of pure agony.

Zhakarov took the opportunity to snap free of the hold with both hands. He kneed Killua in the gut one more time and shoved him across the room. Stars exploded across Killua's vision in splotches of red and black as he hit the ground _hard_.

"Tch. How the mighty have fallen," the hitman mocked as he walked over to the row of computers, plucking his weapon from the ground.

The pain sheeted through Killua's body with a terrible intensity. He coughed and sputtered as he rolled over onto his hands and knees, his chest heaving erratically as he struggled to catch his breath. The blood from his wound now fell in rivulets and slipped into the creases on the floor.

"Crimson has always been my favorite color," Zhakarov mused. His lips twisted into a wicked grin. "You will not make it through this night, Zoldyck. And neither will your _most precious friend_."

 _No..._

The pain that screamed through him couldn't compare to the desperation and agony caused by those words. Those words that slowly tore at what little of his heart he had left as his worst nightmare slowly became reality.

 _It's all my fault. It's all my fault..._

He was done—he couldn't go on with this losing battle. He had to get out of here while he still could.

Slowly, Killua dragged himself up to his feet. He could feel frigid gray eyes watching him intently.

 _I can't stay here. I have to... find Gon..._

Before Zhakarov could raise his weapon again, Killua mustered the last of his strength and bolted out the door.

* * *

 _I'm falling..._

As she flew through the air, Cass could feel her own pulse stuck in her throat. She stretched herself out, extended her arms as far as she could, just trying to _reach_. The few seconds that followed were undoubtedly the longest in her whole life. And then, the miracle.

"Cass, I've got you!"

Kurapika's hand clenched around hers, pulling her forward, wresting her from the void. She flew into his arms with much more momentum than she ever wanted to possess, ever. Kurapika wrapped his arms around her as he fought to stabilize them both.

Cass clung to him, still shaken. " _That's it_ ," she decided. " _I'm never going to be stupid enough to fight gravity ever again."_

But her relief was only temporary.

She screamed as Kurapika shoved her aside. Anzo flew at them with his fists, baring his teeth like a demon. Kurapika blocked the initial blow with his crossed arms, then ducked his head to avoid a second punch.

"Kurapika!" she gasped. "Watch out!"

Cass watched in horror as Anzo exploded forward with a powerful uppercut. But Kurapika leaned backward just in time to evade the blow, his face impassive as Anzo's knuckles swished past his nose.

Kurapika whirled around and continued to dance circles around Anzo to avoid being hit. Finally finding an opening, he burst out with a snapping kick that connected with Anzo's side and sent him rolling to the edge of fractured glass at the center of the roof.

Desperately, Anzo clutched at the border of the glass dome but his hands were slippery from rain and blood. Cass held her breath as Kurapika crouched down to stare Anzo in the face.

"Choose your battles more wisely."

With a dark look on his face, Kurapika stomped his foot on Anzo's hand and the man fell among fading screams.

* * *

Killua dragged himself through the manor, his right hand trembling against his stomach. A fine sheen of sweat gleamed on his forehead. Droplets of blood fell from his curled hand and hit the floor between his feet.

He had to stop the bleeding.

"You there," a voice echoed in the grand hall, and Killua froze. "Don't move."

Further up ahead, near the entrance to the manor, stood a man in black resembling the countless others Killua had slain that night, save for the distinctive blue scarf tied around his bicep.

"Hands up where I can see them," the man said coolly as he took a careful step forward, weapon at the ready.

Killua had no choice. He raised his bloodied hands from his wound, showing that he was unarmed. Unarmed and slowly bleeding out. Defenseless.

There was blood everywhere. Blood on his stomach, blood on his hands, blood trailing him on the great room floor.

 _It's so different when it's your own..._

And Gon. Faded images of Gon blended in with his thoughts. Gon holding his face, Gon gripping his hand tightly, Gon's lips on his hand, _Gon's lips against his_.

Gon's lips that he would never feel again.

The mercenary brought the radio to his mouth. "Sir, I have eyes on Zoldyck. I intend to finish him off."

 _I don't want to die here._

But he was too far away, he'd lost too much blood. If he tried to fight, he wouldn't make it far.

Upon receiving verbal confirmation, the man pocketed his radio and raised his rifle again. Killua let his eyes flutter shut as he took a deep breath of resignation. His chest tightened in regret.

 _Gon, I'm sorry. I should have told you..._

He opened his eyes to glare at the mercenary defiantly. The man took aim—and his head was promptly blown off his shoulders.

To Killua's shock, the body collapsed forward in a heap to reveal Gotoh standing at the entrance of the manor, a steaming shotgun in his hands. He was flanked by another one of the butlers, Canary, who was armed with a pair of sleek handguns.

"Gotoh," Killua gasped weakly as his knees finally gave in on him.

"Master Killua!" Gotoh dropped his shotgun and ran to Killua. Disregarding all the blood, he clutched the boy tightly to his chest. "Master Killua, you're alive, thank god."

He could feel it in his butler—no, his guardian's embrace, the love of a man that saw Killua as his own child. It screamed, _"I'm sorry I took so long. I should have been here to protect you."_

 _But you're here now. I know I can always count on you._

Though his exhausted body wanted nothing more than to collapse in his guardian's comforting hold, he couldn't rest. "Gon... have you seen Gon? I have to find him... right now!"

* * *

Gon's consciousness crept back slowly as gentle drops of rain caressed his face.

The squishy, cold mud underneath his back. The coppery scent of blood mingled with the mist. His hand twitched. He felt icy cold, almost numb.

 _Where am I?_

 _" —Gon—"_ He could hear voices, though they sounded so distant—distorted as if underwater and far, far away.

 _Are they... calling for me?_

The voices got closer, he could make them out a bit better.

 _"Gon!"_

Something in him clicked as he recognized it—the unmistakable voice that he would always _know_ even among the wind, the thunder, and the rain.

 _Killua!_

What felt like trembling hands gripped onto him tightly. A light weight pressed down on his chest.

 _"He's breathing! Oh, thank god…"_

Gon forced his eyes open blearily, just in time to catch sight of Killua's face swimming in and out of focus. He wanted— _needed_ —to move but his entire body weighed him down like lead. Digging his fingers into the mud, he struggled to sit up.

"K-Killua," he managed to get out, though his mouth was so dry as if stuffed with cotton wool.

Killua's eyes lit up as he was suddenly overcome by emotion. He immediately wrapped his arms around Gon in a tight hug, resting his face in the curve of Gon's shoulder as he held on for dear life.

After a few seconds of silent surprise, Gon buried his face in the crook of Killua's neck and returned the embrace as best he could. Despite the throbbing pain blanketing his entire body, he felt warm and comfortable—half asleep, half awake.

Maybe he was dreaming, but it felt pretty real. Killua was warm against him, and they both shared the fresh scent of rain, the bitter smell of sweat and blood.

"Gon." Eventually, Killua pulled away to look him in the eyes. His stormy eyes threatened to well up with tears.

 _But... Killua almost never cries._

He'd lived so long knowing that few would mourn him. Even now, the idea that he could hurt Killua so deeply, just by dying... it was almost surreal.

"I was so scared," Killua's voice wavered as he continued. "I thought you were—"

"Shhh," Gon hushed, bringing a shaky hand up to his partner's cheek. Killua looked so drained, his face ashen and stained with mud and blood, but he was still so beautiful.

 _And you're here. I didn't think I'd be able to see you again._

Gon's lips parted in a weak grin. "I'm not dead yet, Killua. Still got some fight 'n me..."

"Tch. Idiot..." Killua couldn't hold back his relieved smile as his hand came to rest atop Gon's. He nuzzled his cheek into Gon's palm, letting the calloused fingers spread over his skin. His eyes were filled with such affection and tenderness that Gon didn't want to look away.

 _How can I look away, when you look at me the way I'm sure I look at you?_

An intense feeling of exhaustion suddenly battered him down. Killua's face seemed to fade in and out as he struggled to maintain his consciousness.

He could hear other voices in the background. Gotoh. Cass. Was that Leorio? It didn't matter. He really wanted to...

"Killua, I lo..."

But before he could finish, reality spun away from him. He barely remained anchored by the too-tight clasp of Killua's hand over his until the last scrap of his awareness floated away.

* * *

The first thing Gon felt upon waking up was the dull and relentless pounding of his head. Next came the excruciating pull of all his aching muscles and joints; a dull pain on his hand, and around his ribcage where he remembered getting shot.

He was so feverish and parched, his throat drier than the Gordeau desert. Everything seemed distant, muted in the drowsy aftermath of what he could only imagine was an anesthetic. The only pleasant sensation was that of a warm hand around his own.

"Killua?" he asked hopefully, his voice hoarse and almost unrecognizable.

He grimaced and forced his eyes open, blinking as they adjusted themselves to the dim lighting. To his delight, it was indeed Killua slumped over at his bedside holding on to his hand. A bubbly feeling swirled in his stomach as he realized their fingers were loosely intertwined.

"You're awake," Killua said softly.

To his disappointment, Killua drew his hand away almost instantly. He watched as his partner stretched, his back arching gracefully, before scrubbing both hands over his face. He looked exhausted and it made Gon wonder, how long had Killua been by his bedside?

The small room they were occupying was unfamiliar to him—probably one of Killua's safe houses. It was boxy and dark, save for the old bedside lamp sitting on the nightstand and the sliver of moonlight that leaked in through the window.

"You've been out for a few days." Killua moved to sit on top of the covers, his cool hand coming to rest on Gon's burning forehead. "You still have a wicked fever. You should rest—"

 _Ah, his touch..._

"Killua," Gon managed to croak before bursting into a fit of coughs. Killua offered him a glass of water from the nightstand, which he drank down in two gulps. It was lukewarm but good enough to ease his painfully dry throat.

"That damn anesthetic... Leorio said you'd need lots of water. I'm gonna go get some mo—" He was moving to get up, but stopped in his tracks when Gon tugged at his shirt.

"Killua," Gon pleaded. " _Please wait._ "

Killua's surprise was plain on his face as he stared at Gon. His eyes were wide and vibrantly blue, rosy lips so plush and full. Gon swallowed as his eyes trailed lower.

He could practically _see_ Killua's pulse beating at the side of his throat, and a bit lower, he could make out the soft curve of pale collarbones peeking out from underneath Killua's shirt. Gon dug his fingers into the palms of his hands. He couldn't hold back anymore.

He had to do this now. He'd had too many lost opportunities that haunted him. Now it was swim or drown.

As he gripped Killua's shoulder and drew him closer, he decided he was going to swim, or at least drown trying.

—

"Killua," Gon said, more urgently this time. "Look at me."

Killua's breath hitched. There was nothing steady or reliable about the expression painted across Gon's face. He could see with painful clarity the thrumming pulse at Gon's throat, the light reflected in the thin sliver of gold that ringed his enormous pupils.

He could _feel_ the fever rising off Gon like heat in the desert, he could _sense_ the pounding of Gon's blood through his skin, and it made his chest ache desperately. It was driving him insane.

It was like all of his senses were on overdrive, with Gon's proximity adding more fuel to the fire.

Gon brought his good hand up to Killua's face, his fingertips brushing just under the fresh scar on his cheek. His touch was gentle, barely there, but Killua was so painfully aware. It was so difficult to breathe. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he was forced to look straight into Gon's eyes.

Gon, who was so dangerously close.

Those fingers moved lower, slowly tracing down his jawline, caressing his neck. Killua shuddered as the touch sent prickles of heat running up and down his skin. "G-Gon..."

—

 _God, my name sounds so sweet on your lips..._

Gon couldn't deal with it. He had waited too long, held back too much. And Killua was much too close, much too beautiful, with the moonlight softly playing through his hair, bringing out the starlight in his silver-blue eyes— those eyes as clear as glass and full of tenderness and _desire_.

Killua was like something straight out of a dream and, by God, he made Gon want to be so selfish. So completely and utterly selfish.

"Killua, I really want to…" He leaned forward, his hand coming to rest on Killua's knee.

Killua's voice was breathless, uneven, as he remained painfully still. "You want to… what?"

 _You must know what I want..._

Gon could barely get out the words, his head spinning from fever, exhaustion, and pure, heady desire.

"I want to—"

—

"I really want to—" Gon's voice trailed off into a whisper. His eyes were soft and half-mast under thick dark lashes as he looked at Killua with nothing but absolute adoration, and Killua found any resolve or self-control he had slowly crumbling to pieces.

He slowly leaned in, his fingers curling around the back of Gon's neck, thumb pressed against the curve of Gon's jaw. His head was swimming, his ears ringing, his blood crooning in anticipation. He longed to be released from these coiled springs of torment and desire. In every possible way he wanted this, but it was overwhelming, ill-timed.

At this point, he was done caring.

"Gon..." Killua pulled Gon down to him, his mouth slanting across Gon's, and just like that, they were _kissing._

Time stopped.

The universe stopped.

Everything stopped.

Killua's entire world was spinning, and he was trembling, and not even breathing, but it didn't matter because he was _alive_ , and he was _here_ , and he was _kissing Gon_.

Gon's lips were soft, so soft. Better than Killua remembered.

Fireworks exploded in his chest as Gon's fingers slid up the nape of his neck and laced through his hair, guiding Killua's mouth against his slowly but without any hesitation or question. All of his anxiety was instantly dispelled, all his doubts swept away. He was so tired of fighting this, because he _loved_ Gon. He _loved_ him, and _wanted_ him, and _needed_ him more than anything else in his life.

Killua shared in Gon's fever now, his body burning and shaking, and he didn't want it to ever stop.

This kiss was _everything_. It was like warm sunshine dispelling the shadows of fear and uncertainty that had built up inside him. It was like a breath of fresh air after an eternity of being locked up in airless dark. It was like he was being given back something that had belonged to him forever, something that he'd been missing for so long without knowing.

As he clung to Gon with every cell of his being, he couldn't help but think that he wanted more, desperately. Every time Gon's lips moved against his, Killua forgot that their lives teetered in the balance of life and death; that love was a dangerous thing to be in when people wanted nothing more than to make you suffer; that for the sake of Gon's life, they _shouldn't_ be this way.

All of those things, important and worth keeping in mind.

Still didn't care.

His fingers wound tightly in Gon's shirt, drawing him closer as every single one of his nerves caught on fire. He opened up to Gon, slowly licking his lips, inviting him in, and Gon eagerly complied.

—

 _Killua, Killua, Killua._

That was all Gon could think about as he drowned in a whirl of colors and sensations almost too intense to bear. Killua's lips were soft and hot under his, but he wanted _more_.

He slowly flicked his tongue against Killua's, memorizing every curve and crevice of his mouth, claiming it as his own. Killua's hair was soft like silk through his fingers, his hands light as feathers on the back of his neck. Heat flowered through his chest uncontrollably, shortened his breath, sent a tide of goosebumps over his skin. He had never felt so high.

Whether he was delirious from the fever, or just their kissing, he didn't know or care.

Killua's hands smoothed over his shoulders, urging him with gentle touches that scorched his skin like fire, with a murmur against Gon's lips that told him, _"Don't stop, please."_ Not that he had any plans of stopping anytime soon.

Trapped in his state of unrestrained elation, Gon flattened his palm against the small of Killua's back and pulled him onto his lap, earning him a moan of surprise. He kissed Killua over and over, each time with increasing urgency, savoring the taste of Killua's lips under his, the taste of his mouth.

 _Better than a chocolate martini._

He cupped Killua's face between his trembling hands, his calloused fingers running over Killua's skin and making him shiver.

"I love you," Killua whispered breathlessly against his lips.

He'd suspected it, then known it from the moment Killua's lips had connected with his. But hearing it out loud, so suddenly and earnestly, was enough to melt all of Gon's remaining brain cells into oblivion and skyrocket his heart into orbit.

"Killua..." He pulled back, shoulders rising and falling as he panted. Killua sat back and stared at him with wide cerulean eyes, his brows furrowed in question. His face was flushed, his lips parted and swollen from the kisses. Gon wanted nothing more than to capture those lips in his again.

He folded his hand into Killua's, threading their fingers together. He lifted the pale hand to his lips, kissing his skin, brushing his lips across the knuckles, down to his wrist, as Killua stared with those gorgeous, expressive eyes that Gon loved so much. His voice was veiled in adoration. "I love you too. I've been wanting to tell you, but I wasn't sure..."

A wave of guilt visibly washed over Killua, and his eyes fell to his lap. "I... pushed you away because we shouldn't be... Gon, if he knew—" He was cut off by Gon's finger on his lips.

Gon understood now. There was nothing more dangerous than two partners, two criminals in love in a world that was out to get them. It was the equivalent of painting a target on yourself in front of your enemies.

"We'll keep it secret, from him, from everyone. Nobody needs to know. Just as long as I have you, the way you have me."

—

Killua nodded with slight reluctance. Being together with Gon... it was so risky. But now that their feelings were out in the open, they would be nearly impossible to ignore.

His mind wanted to freak out about it, but it didn't get a chance to as Gon pulled him back into a toe-curling kiss that banished all other thoughts and remaining traces of coherence from it.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you._

He never knew he could feel this way, his heart flying and burning and singing all at once, as their kisses grew deeper and deeper still. It was as if they wanted to breathe each other, devour each other whole.

Gon's lips traced the corner of his lips, tickled his jaw, moved down to his neck. Killua's eyes fluttered shut as a breathy moan spilled from his lips, and he swore he heard Gon growl. His hands came up to cup Gon's head, threading through thick dark hair as Gon's lips latched onto his throat...

There was a soft knock on the door, and Killua pulled back so fast he almost fell off the bed just as Cass and Leorio walked in.

—

As their two friends approached they both appraised Killua's current position of "mid-fall, with style", and he turned red all the way to the tip of his ears under their questioning looks.

"I—ah... I'm gonna... you know what? Water. I was about to get water. You know, for..." he sputtered as he practically flew out of the room, leaving a giggling Cass and amused Leorio in his wake.

Gon chuckled before melting into a sweet love-struck smile.

For the first time in a long time, he felt truly happy.

* * *

 _No, we're not friends, nor have we ever been. We just try to keep those secrets in a lie._

 _And if they find out, will it all go wrong? Heaven knows, no one wants it to._

 _Friends should sleep in other beds, and friends shouldn't kiss me like you do._

 _And I know there's a limit to everything, but my friends won't love me like you._

* * *

Need The Sun To Break - James Bay

Friends - Ed Sheeran


End file.
